Diary of a Pilot
by Hawk Strife
Summary: Three years after Third Impact, and the world is still trying to overcome the many challenges it brought. Now, with technology pushed back to that of the early 20th century, a war brews on the horizon, one that may break the bruised Earth and humanity.
1. Chapter 1

_May 22__nd__ 2021_

_My name is Sadio Katsuragi, newly promoted to Airman of the Italian military or "Aviere", against my will and freedom of choice. I suppose even if I did have my own choice, I'd just do something stupid and be just as miserable as I am now. _

_Hell if I know why I'm writing this though, maybe I'm masochistic enough to want to permanently remember my own misery. Maybe to the point of having someone else find it. _

_In case you don't know…four years ago, Third Impact occurred. Nerv failed in their efforts to protect the world from being destroyed, thanks to a number of variables, including SEELE and the pilots of the Evangelions. _

_Afterwards, there were a few months of little to no movement as virtually every living being in the world was literally liquidated. I say virtually, because no one can confirm whether this is true or not. No electronic equipment could record anything as the explosion sent out massive EMP waves around the world, frying every circuit board and wiping the memory banks of every computer available. _

_The people started to come back though, little by little, as the liquid reformed their bodies along the coasts of different countries, some were reformed in the same spot, depending on how far inland they were. They were reformed without their clothes, and a great number of religious people and nerds felt their fortunes had turned around. Eventually, the general population reached the numbers before Third Impact. _

_But life was nowhere near the same. The returns were random it seemed, meaning that the human population rose with no government and no form of order. It was anarchy encompassing the world for the first time and too much happened before control was regained to really be able to write all about it. It left many dead from a number of different causes, innocent and evil. _

_Eventually, the governments did reform and order was restored with most of the countries, although it didn't last for very long. Many countries, decided to use what they could in a time of relatively equal military strengths to go to war._

_The EMP blast wiped away the possibility to use large pieces of heavy armor and complex equipment for war, as well as building such pieces of machinery. Instead, what existed remained as simple hulks of metal and were used as scraps for the next projects. Small arms were mainly in full working order with very few exceptions. Essentially, many of the pieces of equipment that could still be used, such as automatic rifles, machine guns, pistols and simple personal armor became more and more expensive as they each had to be designed and created by hand. The many robotics we depended on to create our weapons, our cars, to drill our oil and help with our farming essentially disappeared and the humans of the 21__st__ century was sent back to the end of the 19__th__ century. _

_So, with the weapons that were cheap to make and available, mainly hunting rifles with handmade scopes, and larger cannons used for artillery, World War I was recreated and renamed as World War IV (World War III happened just after Second Impact). Nations of troops charged each other, and bled over one another for simple territorial expansion. _

_Technically, we were fortunate. Although the loss of life was more than any could have expected. The war lasted only a year, and by then the lines were drawn and it became fairly evident what countries had either recovered or taken great advantage of their situation. In the American continent, the United States took full advantage of their situation, as some would say, and expanded their territory to include Canada and Mexico. Even though their actions were looked down upon, most of the expansion was done with very little gun fire, and did nothing more than expand the number of states that made up the United States. _

_Personally, the United States turned out to look much better than a number of the other countries around the world._

_The Southern American and Central American countries found a common goal in defending themselves against any other countries already at war. The American continent then became allies and remained neutral from any further conflicts in the world…why couldn't I be living in one of those countries right about now?_

_In Africa, the situation became a bit more extreme and never really ended either. The many nations within this massive continent all either started or were pulled into a conflict. At the extreme nature of the war occurring within the continent, all other nations decided to stay out and focus on their own problems, along with the fact that they had no way to transport troops to those locations, save by walking. _

_The conflict came to an unsteady end, with five nations taking most of the territory offered by conquering other nations. Egypt became the strong country protecting one of the few land crossings into Europe. They made friends all around very quickly. _

_The European nations fell into unrest, with Great Britain and Germany taking the reigns of war and conquering the lands around them at a sudden rate. It didn't take long for the two to run into each other and buttheads. It was only thanks to the intervention of the Italian powers that the conflict did not escalate any further. Acting as a thin buffer, Italy became a wall to keep the peace between the two large nations. Italy became the official peacekeeper of Europe. _

_Farther east, Russia, China and India fell into disarray with their supremely large population coming back in sporadic moments. The countries split into smaller city-states practically overnight after people returned, and it wasn't long during the War that other more powerful countries came along and conquered lands for their use._

_Russia was safe from Germany thanks to their cold winters and the frigid boundary separating themselves from each other. China quickly lost much of their coastal and eastern territories to Japan as they created an invasive force faster than the world could have anticipated. Admittedly, this was as far as Japan needed to and wished to go. As I understand it, their intentions were purely for survival in which they needed to secure land in which they could make their own food instead of being forced to trade and depend on others._

_Many Russian and Chinese city-states remain in effect, just united with each other tentatively against any other invasive force. India on the other hand was absorbed by many of the middle-eastern countries and Indonesian countries, before Australia created a Unified Organization of Nations (UON for short) in which all of the island nations of the South Pacific, including Australia united as allies against any other invaders. Since then their navy has grown quickly in order to patrol the long line of islands, and it certainly isn't anything to sneeze at._

_Anyways, after the war was over and the lines were drawn along several maps for this new world, the governments decided on what they would do in order to restart their economies and survive once more. Money seemed to be a stupid idea at this point, especially since everything was bound to have skyrocketed in price if it remained in the hands of private entrepreneurs. All things considered, they needed to make money too. So the government got rid of money, and got rid of some of the profit monger positions many companies saw before._

_The system is simple, surprisingly. A credit line is established in the names of each individual, at the age of 18, allowing for a monthly buying rate. The line goes up according to needs, such as family, or services rendered. Someone with a job would have a better credit line than a simple homeless man, although the homeless man can still somehow go into a store and buy himself a few essentials. _

_Countries have jobs that need to be filled, including scientists for weapon research (A very tiring process what with the EMP discharge still affecting us) and soldiers for the "defense" of our lands. I didn't really fall for a tag line or anything, but most countries were quick to instill a few years of military service as a prerequisite for receiving and upgrading the credit line to a livable one, including the purchase of a small house or apartment. Even protestors had to fall into the military this way._

_Some of the hardcore pacifists and non-militants continued protesting till they starved but…well, let's just say that eating matters a great deal more at the moment and that even I can understand why the government would want to keep a military, even four years after the war's end (five or six after Third Impact if you care to know). _

_I've been in the military now for two years, in which I spent most of my time fulfilling basic training. Honestly, I wanted to be a cook. I didn't care if the food wasn't going to be restaurant quality, but instead I was labeled a pilot and shipped out for flight training. Apparently cook and pilot are relatively similar to each other. But I have to eat somehow, and even though my parents and I lived here, the records disappeared so the house is not under my name. They died, and since I was too young to fight in the Fourth World War, I lived._

_Today, I was assigned to a squadron and shipped to a base on the southern islands of Italy. The base is just a simple small island with the essential concrete buildings, and would be paradise if it weren't for the fact that there's a fairly obvious runway strip running along the land, and several metal hangars and planes hanging out along the side of it, with the control tower not far off. _

_We all received our promotions to Airmen from…well trainees I guess, and our barrack assignments as soon as we landed, all three of us. That is, three including me. So really, just two. I'll admit that flying can be interesting, but I'm usually ordered to focus most of the time, so I can't really enjoy it. Then there's the fact that combat flying is jarring for the body and most of the time you're focused on surviving the turn you just made instead of getting shot down by your mock opponent. _

_But I digress. This base is one of three island air bases meant to make short and quick patrols over the water. Since we're on the middle island furthest South of the Italian tip, we get to patrol the Southern waters in case of an…African air and sea attack. It sounds kinda rude, but I think our command is just being excessively paranoid. The African countries have several other issues and not enough money._

_After the promotion, each of us were given a journal and taken on a quick tour of the base and then sent to the barracks to rest up for the early day tomorrow. I thought I'd take the time to write out as much as I needed to before I died tomorrow thanks to some random engine problem. _

_Hmm, maybe I shouldn't jinx myself…_

_The base now has a full squadron of eight pilots, including us new recruits. Generally, I think we're supposed to fly four planes per patrol, and they rarely make all pilots fly at the same time. We have a supply of 12 planes of the same make and type but in varying conditions of disarray and maintenance. The paint jobs on each plane have faded with time (and salt water) but they don't even seem to look the same. It's almost as if they took planes from different countries and nearly sanded the paint off of the planes themselves. Too much money to put any actual paint over them apparently._

_Hmm, I think that's it. _

_It's a new day tomorrow in which I'll be meeting my flight captain and start flying patrols. Time to pray for a boring four years. _

_Which is sad, since I don't really believe in God anyways._

_

* * *

_

"Good day gentlemen!" the radio cracked in Sadio's ears over the buzz of the propeller of his aircraft, "Today we'll teach you about the lovely aircraft now carrying you over our beautiful Mediterranean sea. If you survive the lecture in the air, you'll be welcomed into our modest squadron."

The air within the cockpit was not as stale as Sadio had first expected it to be as small cracks and imperfections in the plane allowed air to seep in and out. Strangely, it kept the cockpit somewhat fresh, but it was also loud and difficult to listen to the radio. High-altitude flying was also very difficult without a mask, which was already attached to his flight suit; the hose attached to an oxygen canister under his seat.

Sadio was surprised he could hear his Captain with the humming engine but also with his focus solely on his control stick and the instruments on his deck. He had never flown an aircraft with such a sensitive control stick before, and he felt the plane bob and sway with each twitch running through his nerves to the ends of his fingers. He wasn't sure, but he thought he was covered in a thick sheet of sweat, and if he had not been wearing his goggles already, he might not have been able to see anything.

"_Aviere_ Katsuragi eh?" He heard suddenly through the radio, "You're too nervous on that stick _figlio _(son), stop treating that plane like a tool. Treat it like your body and relax!"

Sadio almost scoffed at the strange idea, and would have had he not been more focused on staying alive and in the air. He needed to think of something calming, but nothing came to mind immediately. As he looked from the dashboard over to the nose and the whirring propellers, several thoughts and images suddenly flashed in his mind. They stopped at the sight of a girl with dark auburn hair, almost to the point of being violet. An old memory, soothing and happy.

"Good! Whatever you're feeling there _Aviere_, you need to remember that feeling!" Sadio heard and looked over himself. Nothing had changed. He was still in the air. He still felt nervous as hell, but apparently something was somehow different.

"Now then _signori_, as I was saying. You are all sitting in the pride of Italy back in World War II. Don't be too depressed by the news however, there is little that you can do to fix the technology of today. Just wait for Nerv to find something better to make and we'll all be riding that when the time comes. Until then, become familiar with your Folgores, the Macci 202s (two-oh-twos) are good enough to handle anything the world may have to throw at you, should they feel the need to throw something at all. Anything from a dogfight, to a strafe and bombing run over the waters, this plane can do it in properly trained hands."

Sadio felt his hands tense up as the air inside the cockpit somehow felt stale, he turned his head from side to side, relaxing his shoulders a bit although his fingers were beginning to turn pale. What if an attack happened now, would they be forced to do battle against such an experienced enemy? Or would they be forced to retreat in shame, not knowing what would happen to their new comrades and the only teachers available?

Laughter suddenly began to blare out through the speakers in Sadio's headset, "_Mi scusi_ _Capitano_, you'll scare the boys!" The man laughed a bit before he resumed, "_Rilassare_ children, relax, you'll never come into contact with the enemy on your first flight, or even your first three!"

"Never say never _sergente_, you may live to regret your words," said a deeper voice over the radio, serene although it pulled Sadio into a state of slight fear and depression. It was strange to him, but familiar although he tried to shake away such memories as quickly as he could.

"_Basta_, enough! We have to train these pilots, not frighten them to stay on the ground. Now then, let us begin…" The day wore on with the Captain giving small details and lecturing about the capabilities of the plane with two experienced squad members pulling away from time to time to demonstrate. At some points, the Captain would give quick tests, to try and garner a fast and accurate reaction from each trainee depending on the situation. Sadio felt his head spin when his turn suddenly came, and he tensed so much that his plane began to lift as he had pulled back on the stick in an effort to try and become much smaller. The laughter on the radio seemed to grate his ears, but Sadio felt much more relaxed and even cracked a smile at times.

The day finally came to a close with one of the more difficult tests for each pilot to accomplish, although they had done so multiple times before during basic pilot training. Once his plane landed roughly on the ground, the last to arrive from the six-man flight, Sadio, suddenly felt the strain of the day fall on his shoulders and his chest; even though none of the pilots had done anything strenuous on their bodies, such as tight turning, or even complex maneuvers like the S-split or even a high yo-yo.

The engine puttered out as the propeller sluggishly stopped, and a jeep came along to start pulling the plane towards the hangars. Sadio quickly unlatched the cockpit canopy and pulled it back as he started to climb out and down to the wing, before hopping on the runway. He gave a wave to the driver before walking over towards the command structure next to the flight tower, where he figured a debriefing would be held not too long from then. He could still see some of the newer pilots walking along towards the building, but Sadio remained at his pace seeing no reason to catch up. He wondered if he would even learn their names, probably so. Two years was too long to be alone.

Once at the room where the debriefing was being held, he knocked and entered. Sadio's first response to the sight before him was wide eyes and a step back as he watched the five pilots smiling and drinking from a poorly hidden bottle of wine covered by a thin flight jacket. The Captain, an olive-skinned man with a thin mustache grinned as he sauntered over to Sadio with an extra glass of wine. "To all our newest pilots, our _Avieri_, we give welcome," he then turned to all the others, "Welcome to a relaxing position in the warm coast, where every patrol comes with a fabulous view in the name of protecting our country."

Sadio raised his glass after the others did so in return. He took a sip, cringing slightly at the bitter taste of the alcohol. The second sip came with a less cringing and finding some subtle flavor within it. He looked down with an approving glance as he continued to drink, a content smile on his face as he got to know the squadron.

_

* * *

_

May 24_th__, 2021_

_Last night was my first time patrolling without someone teaching me what to do. It was kinda relaxing actually. Besides the fact that I'm in a cramped seat for over five hours slowly turning and making sure I haven't missed anything in the sky that might look like a tiny speck in the distance. That being said, I had to clean and re-clean my canopy after I landed. I nearly freaked out into the radio until I realized there was a smudge on the outside of the canopy, that won't be happening again if I can help it._

_I was stuck in a holding pattern and had the chance to look at the base itself while I flew around. It's surprisingly well defended, making me wonder why they even need patrols of any sort, though I keep that thought to myself. I'd rather not piss someone off by questioning the orders of command. There are AA and Flak Cannons placed on the top of each major building, including the control tower. There are also some placed at each corner of the island, making the runway the only place that's relatively undefended. _

_I'm not sure what it would take to tear this place apart, but I sure hope I never get to see it. I feel like no one else does either, or maybe they just don't think it will ever happen. The Captain has a strange calm to him, either because he's tired or because he just doesn't care all that much. A rumor has gone around that he'd fought before Third Impact in some lighter skirmishes as a fighter pilot, and then had done some ground combat during the Fourth World War. But he never answers or confirms anything we've asked, he just gives us a grin and goes back to his wine._

_Capitano Alonso Verti. I wonder…if a war sprung up and I somehow made it through, would I turn out like him? Calm and uncaring, almost cool or maybe even bored with peaceful life? It's hard to imagine myself surviving a war to begin with honestly…_

_I'm pretty sure our scheduled patrol tomorrow is going to be a little bumpy if we go through with it. Stormy weather, but it might make for an interesting experience._

* * *

Lightning flashed followed by the dull rumble of thunder, though it was almost droned out by the whirr of the propeller on Sadio's Folgore. The rain fell hard on his cockpit but rolled back along the glass at the speed Sadio flew under the cloud cover. He looked over his shoulder several times, wondering if he would ever lose sight of his companions and his Captain. Earlier, six of the eight pilots had taken off from the runway, bringing along the three green rookies along. The squadron then split into two separate three-wing flights in order to complete the patrol as quickly as possible under the strain of heavy weather.

Captain Verti led them along in a diagonal formation, with Verti leading the way, Sadio in the middle and the third pilot, Adrian, in the rear. The wind blew up and down against Sadio's plane, but somehow he kept the plane moving in a straight line alongside his captain. The three had been flying for an hour, feeling disoriented after being pushed off course a few times by strong gales.

"All right, _basta_. I doubt we would even see an enemy plane in this mess, we're pulling up!" The captain said and began to climb up through the rain and the lightning, until he disappeared into the cloud ceiling. Sadio climbed up after him not long after, forgetting to look behind him to make sure the third man could follow, and flinched as he flew into the wall of smoke and vapor.

For a few seconds, Sadio felt as if he were in limbo as his plane flew surrounded by only the dark grey mist of the cloud, too thick for Sadio or any pilot to see through. Suddenly, the Folgore burst through the top edge of the clouds and into a clear blue sky with the sun high in the air. Sadio pushed down on the stick quickly to level out, feeling the blood rush up into his head a bit. He shook it quickly as he focused on his Captain's plane and trailed behind.

"Three planes, very good!" The Captain shouted as his plane rolled on its side and began to turn towards the east, back towards the base. "Another good day, even with the rough wind and rain. You're both turning into very capable _piloti_."

"_Capitano_," Adrian spoke through the radio, "how are we going to land on the runway through such a storm?" Sadio did not want to admit it, but he had been wondering the same thing.

"Patience _aviere, pazienzia_. There is no need to make yourself nervous before we even reach the runway _si_? Just relax for now."

"_Si Capitano,_" Adrian said and the radio clicked silent. Sadio reached up to his collar, pulling it away from him to air out the sweat and humidity beginning to stifle him inside of his flight suit. With the rain, the air that came into the cockpit tended to be wet and mostly cold, though his flight jacket kept him warm. The flight jacket did nothing to fight off the humidity however. He had been told that it was acceptable to open up the canopy a bit once they flew above the rain clouds, to let some fresh air inside, but Sadio had laughed the thought off nervously.

He looked through the glass of the cockpit and swore under his breath as he raised his hand to try to wipe a black speck that had somehow missed his notice during the cleaning that day. After he had wiped against the glass with his gloved thumb, he pulled his hand back to see that the glass was cleaner, but the speck had moved only slightly. His eyes widened a bit as he tried to wipe it away again, but found the speck to remain. He then brought his hand back to the stick.

"_Capitano!" _He yelled into his radio.

"Easy there Sadio, why are you all excited?"

"9 o'clock, from the South! I see something!" Sadio shouted again and was responded with utter silence in his ears. A silence of deliberation and thought, one that Sadio felt he had heard many times in his youth filled with another emotion, fear.

"I see it Sadio," Captain Verti said, much to the disappointment of Sadio, "strange that there is only one." Sadio watched as the Captain's plane began to roll and pull towards the South in a fluid motion, quicker than Sadio had ever seen the plane move before. "All right, both of you turn after me and head under the clouds. The storm should cover you!"

"_Capitano?_" Sadio asked but was cut off quickly.

"Do not respond until I say 'over.' I will call for you or dive with you if I come across any trouble. Pull up through the clouds if you find other planes waiting for you. And make sure your cannons are ready to fire, understand? Over."

"_Si Capitano."_

"_Si…Capitano."_ Sadio responded slower.

"Don't be nervous, and do not forget your training at this crucial time. Over, and out." The Captain's plane began to speed along towards the distant enemy, and Sadio watched with almost sad eyes before he sluggishly rolled his plane to the side and banked into the clouds spanning across the earth below him.

His Folgore burst through, and he leveled out underneath the clouds and into the rain. The waves far below him crashed roughly against each other in a show of water and foam. And the flash of lightning quickly became a roar of thunder that vibrated the entire plane down to Sadio's feet. Sadio and Adrian flew next to each other, with Adrian trailing behind slightly, and Sadio began to wonder if Adrian felt as nervous as he. It would be their first time to witness combat, and perhaps even take part, and he felt ill prepared. Sadio took a few deep breaths as he looked over the dashboard of his cockpit, his mind focused on the meticulous details in airspeed, altimeter and fuel gages. He also made sure that his guns were primed and ready to fire if the need came, and scanned the air around his cockpit consistently for any sign of enemy planes, though it was difficult to see anything through the oncoming and crashing rain.

His propeller chopped through the raindrops as he waited, which streaked across the glass of his cockpit quick enough to make it seem clear. He clenched and released his right hand repeatedly, holding the plane steady with his left hand. His ears listened as the noise of the rain began to overcome the drone of the engine, splattering against the cockpit and the rest of the plane in pits and pats. His right hand slowed down and he let out a sigh as he relaxed his tension a bit.

The radio in Sadio's ear crackled suddenly, and Captain Verti's voice faintly broke through, "Wa…out!" the radio said weakly and with static everywhere.

"What did he say?" Adrian asked through the radio, which Sadio could hear only slightly better.

Suddenly, a burning husk of metal, smoke and flames punched through the clouds above them and fell straight down towards the water. Sadio watched if fall with focused eyes, his mouth dropping agape slightly as it passed by him several feet away. "I think he said 'watch out,'" he then said into the radio.

Another plane flew through the surface of the clouds, with white hot tracers coming around behind it and a second plane following close, a more familiar plane. "_Avieres_," The captain's voice exploded into their ears, "return to base and make sure they know what is happening!"

"What?" Sadio began.

"_Capitano_, we can't just leave you here" Adrian finished for his comrade.

"Enough talk. Follow orders and return to base!"

Sadio and Adrian stayed silent for a while as they watched their Captain chase after the plane with guns blazing, peppering the enemy's wings every now and again. Suddenly, another plane flew down through the clouds, and followed after the Captain's plane.

"Sadio! Are we really going to do this?"

Sadio watched the combat ensue in front of him, his eyes focused on the Captain's plane. He suddenly felt the urge to run, his arm tensed up on the stick. He began to hope that the wavering of his plane was only due to the fact that the wind and rain were beating against his wings. "Sadio!" Adrian yelled.

He pulled back on the stick instinctively, thinking back on his options and his training. A radio would never make it through the storm, and there was no certainty that Sadio and Adrian would defeat an unknown number of unknown enemies. 'Uncertainty in combat means death' he remembered hearing from an instructor at one time. He rolled his plane over and pulled towards the East, "We have to follow orders!"

"But we'll be leaving the _Capitano_ behind! He could be killed!"

"If we don't tell the home base that there are enemy planes over our waters, then we could be caught unprepared as an invasion force comes up from behind. We…we just have to go." Sadio said sternly. He swallowed the shame he felt in the back of his throat as he forced the throttle forward and pushed gas into the engine. The propeller sped up and the Folgore flew through the air and water like a knife. A quick look over his shoulder showed that Adrian had done the same, though he remained silent on the radio.

The rain and thunder and lightning continued as Sadio led the way back towards the base, following his compass and charts to the best of his abilities. Another roll of thunder shook him and his plane from above, and he looked up in reflex. He thought he saw something from within the clouds, but after a while could see nothing more.

Less than an hour later, the two could finally see the island base a few miles away from them, to which Sadio quickly flipped on his radio. "Base command, Base command," He started, "this is _aviere_ Katsuragi. Please respond, over."

The radio responded with static for a few moments and Sadio wondered if the storm was so strong that they could not see him either. Then the radio static crackled suddenly and Sadio heard a young man's voice come through, "_Aviere _Katsuragi, we hear you loud and clear, but we do not see you. You are back early, over?"

"We came across unknown enemies, and _Capitano _Verti remained behind in combat. An alert should be issued before we return to the _Capitano's_ aid."

"_Negativo_ _aviere_, you must land and refuel, and the _Comandante_ needs to decide your orders. Confirm?"

"_Aviere_ Dazer confirms," Adrian said over the radio and pulled away from behind Sadio, starting to move quickly towards the runway, "Please advise on our first wet landing command."

Sadio watched silently as Adrian's plane pushed against wind and rain, lowering itself over the rocky waters. The plane's landing gear lowered and Adrian flew it closer and closer. Sadio watched as he compensated for the wind direction and strength by flying a bit off the middle line of the runway. A sudden burst of wind then nudged the plane back onto the middle line as Adrian's gear touched the wet asphalt. "Very good_ aviere_," Command said, "Now Sadio, it is your turn."

Sadio did not respond, focusing on the decision he had made that might have cost someone's life when he could have attempted something different. He could have broken orders, right? At least tried to help out the Captain. Or would it have ended horrifically, as the Captain had most likely already foreseen? He had already flown past the other end of the island by the time command tried to speak to him again.

"_Aviere_ Katsuragi, start your turn and throttle your engine back for a landing."

Another flash of lightning and thunder followed, as Sadio pushed the stick. His 202 rolled to the side and he pulled up for a moment, until the radio blared again, "Wha-Break off! Break off!" the controller yelled through the radio.

At that moment, yellow lights, like tennis balls on fire, shot past Sadio's cockpit and in a quick decision based purely on reflex Sadio pulled harder on the roll, twisting his plane upside down and began to pull away towards the ocean surface. He took a deep breath through his teeth as he leveled-out a few feet over the ocean surface.

"What was that!" Sadio yelled looking out through the framed glass of his canopy. But he could not see anything more than the grey overcast of the clouds. "Command, respond!"

"An unknown aircraft flew over the base and back up into the clouds. Turn around and follow after it _Aviere_. I cannot clear you to land until this threat is cleared."

Sadio began to clench and unclench his fist once more as his nerves began to overtake him, thinking that Adrian was the lucky one to be on the ground. And now he was sent to chase after whatever had the advantage against him. "What about reinforcements?"

"This storm has everyone grounded unless we deem it necessary to risk the danger." The controller paused for a moment, while Sadio felt the weight on his chest as he made a sharper turn than he had intended. He leveled-out to find himself still alive and still afraid, but less tense, "The rest of your wing should be on their way. At most, you must keep the rest of the enemy occupied and make sure you give us the exact numbers. From now on, do not forget to use your squad name and number, is that understood?"

There was a pause in the radio transmission, "_Mattone Cinque _(Brick five), understood." Sadio glumly responded. He grabbed the mask on his face, checking the straps and seals before breathing in deep and pulling up on the stick. He felt the engine vibrate hard as he pushed the throttle up and forced more gas into the engine for a quick boost. He felt his arms tremble again, or at least he thought it was his arms.

His plane flew through the cloud cover, into the clear sky above it and Sadio swiveled his head for any sign of the plane. It did not take long to find it as he spotted a plane passing by and under the sun in the middle of a turn. It began to level out as it flew towards Sadio's plane.

Sadio found himself almost at a loss at the sight of the enemy and expected it to start firing instantly, cutting through his wings, his engine, and perhaps the cockpit and his own body. The quick end to a rookie pilot.

Flashes appeared on the planes wings and Sadio barely blinked before he held his breath and twisted into a roll that sent him swerving under the passing plane. "Never turn away from an enemy," he whispered the rule to himself, "Instead, turn and face him." Sadio immediately banked hard towards his left, and the sky righted itself in front of his eyes. He then looked above him, catching the streams of white trailing from the wings of the enemy as it began to do a similar motion, a tight turn cutting through the air. Sadio twisted the plane onto its side once more, and began to feel the full brunt of several gravitational forces pushing against his chest as he tried to pull harder on the stick. The two then spiraled around each other, chasing after each other like dogs nipping at each others tails with snarling teeth. A classic battle spinning through the air. A dogfight.

The two planes spun around, tightening their circle little by little and losing altitude as well. They neared the surface of the grey clouds, at which Sadio felt a bit nervous and hesitant. If they fell through, they would lose sight of each other, this much he knew already. His mind raced, trying to think of an idea. He could not break away from the turn too early, otherwise the enemy pilot would find an advantage. Break too late, and Sadio might come out of the clouds unable to find his foe in the rain, and once again be in a delicate position of Cat and Mouse.

The clouds came nearer, and Sadio returned his focus to the enemy plane chasing after him, getting closer faster than Sadio could force his plane to turn. They hit the cloud surface, practically at the same time, and the grey clouds blocked out most of the sunlight. Sadio gripped the stick and pulled to the right, rolling his plane around and turning away in the opposite direction. He leveled out, continuing to fly blind within the cloud cover. He then pulled back on the throttle and spun the 202 upside down, using the measure on his dashboard until he was certain his cockpit was facing the ground.

He pulled the stick back, slowly edging the plane towards the bottom of the clouds. Finally, he looked down the top of the framed canopy and viewed a lighter thickness of cloud vapors, enough for him to look through it. He pulled towards the ground farther and finally got a better view of the ocean surface, the base, and the rest of the rainy air.

He turned his head from side to side, watching the rain fall from the sky. The view of the island seemed far and foggy, and he could not see the plane. Instead, he found a strange and ghostly shape cutting through the air and the rain, moving below him towards the airbase. "He thinks I'm running away…" He whispered to himself with surprise and a light smile.

He pulled hard on the stick, ignoring the pressure he felt on his chest, and pulling his plane down towards the warped air. He sped towards the ground, aiming himself to cross the path of the enemy plane. His 202 came closer to the warped air, and Sadio watched it form into the vague shape of an aeroplane and becoming more detailed as the seconds ticked away. Sadio then began to steady his dive and leaned forward to the bullseye on top of his dashboard. He came closer, and closer, watching the outline of the enemy become full and colored. He could see a faint outline of the insignia on the tail of the plane out of the corner of his eye. Finally, when he was close enough that he could have seen the silhouette of the pilot in the cockpit, his finger squeezed the trigger.

The Folgore shook as the cannons banged and blazed, loud enough for Sadio to easily hear over the whirr of his propeller and the fall of the rain. The tracer rounds fell fast, and the enemy plane flew right through the path of the bullets. Bolts of hot lead smashed into the metal plating protecting the engine and several bullet holes ran along the body of the plane, down to the tail.

Sadio tried to watch the enemy plane as they passed by each other, but could only watch it disappear into the rain. Finally, he saw a ball of flame clearly within the rain begin to fall and twist towards the surface of the ocean.

"This is _Mattone Cinque_, I've just shot down the unknown enemy. It's fireballing to the water." Sadio exclaimed through the radio a bit breathless. He could scarcely believe he was still alive and the victor to the short duel between planes. He watched as the fireball continued to fall, reminded suddenly of the Captain and the kill that had passed close to he and Adrian an hour before. A loud smash, muffled by the rain, shook the air. Sadio turned to see if it had been a lightning strike but spotted vague form of a tall spout of water in the ocean. He circled around, watching the water fall back and seeing that all traces of the smoke and flames had been quenched.

"Good job _aviere_," the controller said as the radio in Sadio's ear sparked to life, "Were you able to get a look at its insignia? Did you see any other planes? over."

"No other planes control. I think I got a decent view of the insignia but it flew by very quickly, over."

"That'll be enough for now. Get on the runway before you get bounced, over and out."

_

* * *

_

My first kill, and it's barely been more than a few hours. It looks like nighttime, but it's only maybe 6 pm. The rest of the flight finally arrived, or rather what's left of it.

_Two planes came back with a little damage, carrying the 2__nd__ Lieutenant and the sergeant. Josef, the third rookie and an Israeli who had transferred to Italy, was shot down but we know he's still alive. It makes me feel better, but we may never see him again. A military vessel flying allied colors picked him up, though I've heard rumors that it wasn't supposed to be there. No one would tell me or Adrian more, and I doubt even the 2__nd__ Lieutenant knows either. It's possible that the ship was a spy from the enemy, which would mean that Josef was as good as dead and that we've practically been compromised already._

_But it could also be an ally on a classified mission, which would mean that Josef would be barred from any outside contact in order to keep that mission secret. Why they would be conducting a mission there and now however, is anyone's guess. It could mean a lot of things worse than having an invasion force coming here if you have a decent enough imagination. I'd rather not think about it._

_It doesn't help that the Captain never returned. They're labeling him MIA right now…_

_The Brick squadron, or "Mattone" squadron, is down to six active pilots. The base is on full alert, and we're about to start discussing our new defensive patrols and formations, which should come into effect tomorrow. It's anyone's guess on what will come next..._


	2. Chapter 2

*I do not own the rights to Neon Genesis Evangelion. I am also not writing this for money.*

*Thanks for reading*

_May 25__th__ 2021_

_ I was woken to a beautiful sunrise at 0600 this morning by the infinitely less desirable voice of the Base Lieutenant Commander. Still, I couldn't even take the time to really appreciate it…barely thirty minutes after the wake up call, we were sent to the briefing room focused on our new defensive measures, and what we could expect to face. Honestly, it was the vaguest mission briefing I ever had to sit through._

_There wasn't any new or reliable intel. We were only told to defend against a sea attack, an air attack…or hell, even a surprise ground invasion. 'Anything might happen, so expect anything' were the commander's words. Strong words, if a bit lacking in strategic value. _

_Of course, we still don't know who made the first attack. And the vague details I could remember from the insignia didn't bring up anything. Honestly, I could only describe a blurry picture in the shape of an S. The commander had looked at me as if I was a fool. The fact that I actually had a kill record at that moment probably meant very little to him. I hadn't made a big deal over it, but I came back from my debriefing yesterday to find that a crude airplane had been etched onto the paint of my Folgore, something the 2__nd__ Lieutenant was proud to claim responsibility for. _

_ Anyhow, the briefing today defined where we would fly on our patrol, and then gave us orders to bring along special armaments, specifically a 500 kg bomb. We're supposed to use it if we come across any enemy ships while we're on patrol. Actually, the base commander iterated that we'd be allowed to use these bombs on any unknown ships that failed to make any identification. That being said, I haven't had much training to really drop a bomb on any sort of target, much less a moving one or one that's firing at me. That's just the bad news of course. _

_The worse news is that Command expects at least one of our sea patrol units to come in contact with the enemy. _

_ The only decent news is that we might have reinforcements soon. The military bases in the country are on alert. Obviously, it's the best the military can do. We can't really be in a state of war just because of a skirmish from an unknown enemy. Who can say how long it would take for any number our forces to take off and reach us, but the base commander seems to be confident that they'll be ready. I wish I felt the same way._

_ But as far as we are concerned, sending reinforcements won't matter nearly as much when our squadron will be on the frontlines. We've been ordered to start our patrols almost immediately. We're even equipping fuel tanks in order to stay up in the air as long as possible, two hours more. I can't wait._

_ They're starting to bring out that terrible coffee. Better head out there._

* * *

Sadio stared at the rest of his squadron as they continued to fly in a scrambled and disorganized formation, although no one commented on it. The six Folgores had been flying like this for over three hours already, travelling a route that started from the island base and headed Southeast for two hundred miles before turning lazily and heading back towards the base from a different direction.

The flight had been slow, and boring, and Sadio had found himself counting clouds and playing mind games, or simply pulling out the map chart and looking it over to pass the time. Every now and again, Sadio would either reset the trim, or lock the stick in place in order to give his hands a small bit of rest from the cramps beginning to set in.

Thankfully, none of his turns had caused his body any grief as the 2nd Lieutenant led them on a lethargic patrol over ten thousand feet above the water. At that altitude, Sadio checked his oxygen mask regularly. Besides that and the relatively claustrophobic and confined space in which he sat, he was comfortable. He was beginning to get used to sitting still for long periods of time. As the squad moved into another turn, Sadio remembered a current quirk to the plane that he had noticed the minute they had left the ground, but continued to ignore until they began to turn and push against gravity.

The controls were still quick to respond to his movements, but the plane felt heavier to his stick. The heavy bomb attached to the unprotected belly of his aircraft quickly came to mind, and Sadio soon began to wish he could find a target to drop it on. He felt big and slow, like an elephant crawling in front of a massive bull's-eye. The stick wavered a bit as a strong gust of wind pushed under his wings and through the tail, shaking the flaps, and in turn the rest of the plane. Sadio steadied his plane forcefully, and then watched as the rest of the planes went through the similar turbulence again, and again. In Sadio's mind, it was just a bit more interesting than the rest of the patrol had been.

"All pilots check in," the second Lieutenant asked suddenly.

"_Mattone Tre, va bene"_

"_Mattone Quattro_, I'm fine too_"_

"_Mattone Cinque, _feeling nervous,_" _Sadio answered honestly.

_Mattone_ six, and seven followed quickly after Sadio, each a calm and almost unrecognizable voice garbled by the static and distance given through the radio.

"Good," the 2nd Lieutenant spoke quickly, "The wind should pass soon enough, and we'll eventually get back to the ground. Just keep flying awake and you'll be able to get home and rest up for the same patrol tomorrow morning!"

A resounding groan came over the radio in response, and even Sadio had to fight in order to keep his mouth shut. Though at this point, there was little point to it.

"_Ascoltate_, listen up!" the radio blared into Sadio's ear, "We will be meeting up with the naval patrol soon. We will fly down to seven thousand feet in order to keep an eye out for them, though we don't know how far off the patrol they might be."

"Or how far off we might be, _tenente_."

"Adrian, the birds in the sky have always had a better sense of direction than the dogs of the sea." The 2nd Lieutenant said with what Sadio felt was a smile in his voice. His leading plane began to roll over on its head and bank down gently towards the water. The rest of the planes followed after the lead plane, one by one, until Sadio felt the shiver as his rickety plane rolled over and began a steady decline in altitude. His eyes shifted to the rolling needle on the altimeter until it finally neared seven thousand, and he righted himself up again, finishing the fall in shorter and slower pushes of the stick.

As he continued, following after his fellow comrades on wings, he strained his neck as he looked from left to right, checking the water and the sky for anything out of place. For a few moments, he saw nothing. But the light reflecting on the ocean's surface began to shift and he noticed a few dark spots in the distance ahead of them, just slightly to the east. He was not the first to spot it.

"_Sottotenente_, this is _mattone sette, _there is a black…spot in the water up ahead."

"Who ever heard of black spots suddenly appearing in the Mediterranean Sea?" The 2nd lieutenant responded.

"This is _Mattone Tre_, I can see it as well. Actually, I can see another two black spots."

"What is that supposed to be?" Sadio asked himself as he leaned forward and squinted his eyes a bit. While black spots could mean anything, usually any small specks on the edge of the horizon where the ocean met the sky would be considered ships far into the distance. But these spots had very little distance and the flight could discern a rough circular patch, like ink dropped into a pool of water. An idea sprung in Sadio's mind as he clicked his radio on, "Oil? Is it oil?"

"Oil from what, Sadio?"

"A ship!" the 2nd Lieutenant responded, catching onto Sadio's thought process. "Increase speed! Don't let anything strange escape you."

Sadio gave his affirmative response as he pushed the gas into his engine and followed. Pistons pumped and the propeller whirled quicker as the fumes burst from the engine. He felt the burst of momentum press against his chest, not hard or tightening, but enough to force some air from his lungs.

Several long seconds passed as the six planes neared the black stains on the ocean, enough to see the black spots up close, and a few sparks of flame and floating debris within the splashing black liquid. It was ugly, and Sadio began to wonder if he might find floating bodies if he flew down close enough. He noticed that no one else flew down to check either.

"What ships were those?" Sadio asked.

"No way to tell _aviere_. Not anymore anyways. But this is where we were supposed to meet up with the patrol," the 2nd Lieutenant responded.

"_Merda_," Sadio whispered to himself as he looked towards the horizon, trying to take his mind off the image of dead bodies in the sea. He then began to think of the consequences of losing a patrol convoy.

"Headquarters, headquarters! This is _Mattone_ leader. Place all bases on red alert." The second Lieutenant began over the radio. Sadio guessed it was a high-frequency channel, or at least a signal that was being boosted enough to reach the mainland. "Patrol fleet missing on the Western waters, enemy convoy unknown and at large, please confirm, over."

The radio remained silent for a bit as Sadio turned back to the oily waters, the squad was circling over them slowly. "Why were there no fires or smoke stacks for us to see from the distance?" Adrian asked suddenly, "I mean, there's oil and oil burns doesn't it?"

"Torpedoes?" another pilot suggested.

"Torpedoes would keep the fires low, and easily sink a scout convoy. Does this mean it was a submarine?"

Sadio almost shrugged his shoulders, "Or a destroyer."

"Enough talk," The second Lieutenant responded, "Keep silent for now. Sadio, pull up with Adrian and try to see if you can find any sign of those destroyers. Go, _andare_!"

Sadio waited very little as he pulled and sped up into the sky. He checked the straps for his mask again and looked in the distance through his goggles. Minutes after they reached the air, clouds moved away and uncovered a strange sight, a tall pillar of smoke. "_Tenenente_! I think I've found them! Smoke stack to the east!"

"Get yourselves in position, but stay at that altitude!" Sadio heard through the radio, though it felt as if the lieutenant had yelled down a hall full of static and noise. "We're moving in now! Both of you wait for my order before you do anything!" He yelled again.

"Understood." Sadio answered simply.

Time passed slowly, and for a few moments, Sadio began to wonder if the ships, which increased in size as he came closer, were enemies at all. Up until a shocking sound, a loud crack, shook the air around him. He grabbed the stick hard and searched for the source of the sound but found nothing. Then a star of black smoke expanded suddenly in his direct path, and Sadio quickly rolled to the right. "Flak cannon!" He yelled, hoping that Adrian and the pilots down below could hear.

"Dive!" He heard, "Dive and bomb the cruiser! Dive now!" By instinct, Sadio reached towards the dashboard and then suddenly froze as he tried to remember what needed to be pulled first. Another explosion then tore through the air.

Suddenly, Adrian zoomed past his right side and began to dive towards the water. "Sadio! Follow me!"

Focusing on the moving plane, Sadio pushed the throttle forward to keep up with the speeding Adrian, and pushed the stick forward to lower his nose. He felt gravity begin to fail him as he floated a centimeter over his chair, held down only by the belts over his shoulders. He felt his insides rise up a bit as well as he pushed harder on the throttle.

"Keep your nose up!" Sadio heard suddenly, "You might not be able to pull out from a steep dive!"

"I know how to drop a bomb, Adrian!" Sadio yelled out as he tried to keep his hands steady around the stick. The ships became clearer beyond his propeller as he neared the surface of the ocean. He quickly counted five ships. Each ship had flashes appearing sporadically, and of varying quantity, on the decks. Tracers flew around Sadio's cockpit, flak exploded around and in front of him.

A following flak burst shook his Folgore, though he steadied it once more and kept his heading behind his wingman. He followed Adrian's example as they cut the distance to the three more dangerous ships. Two destroyers swam on each side of a cruiser, and the destroyer closest to them had a smoking hole along its side.

Sadio continued to dive, flying between streams of fire hot lead, twisting and turning his plane to make sure his dive was heading towards the cruiser. He began to pull himself out of the dive, ignoring the thick black pillar of smoke pass him, and grabbed onto a handle to his left side, ready to tug it and drop the payload attached to his Folgore's belly. Sadio tried to smooth his flight path through the surrounding flak and watched as Adrian continued to near the cruiser. The bomb disconnected from the bottom of the 202 as Adrian then smoothly pulled up and rolled away from more of the incoming fire. Sadio's eyes followed the bomb for a moment, before it disappeared below the nose of his aircraft and then focused his eyes on the cruiser and the bullseye in front of him. He counted quickly in his mind, calculating his speed and distance, before he began to pull up. He then tugged hard on the handle to his left, releasing the heavy bomb. The plane jumped as the weight lifted, and the sound of creaking and scraping metal echoed from below Sadio's feet.

Sadio quickly pulled upwards and started to turn away amid the crossing streams of gunfire as the cruiser disappeared completely from his mind, at least for a few seconds as he quickly flew around to stay safe. He could not help but to look down towards the cruiser, and watch as a blast of hot red and orange erupted from the deck of the ship. Strips and bits of metal flew from the deck, and people disappeared under the flames. Then, another blast erupted from another part of the deck as Sadio's bomb hit home.

More pieces of black smoldering metal flew into the water, and several explosions burst from under the deck as the guns ceased firing. "Very good chain reaction!" Sadio heard the 2nd Lieutenant yell as the rest of the Folgores began their approach from the West against the remaining destroyers. They flew low over the water, ducking under and through white bullets and black flak.

The crippled destroyer, having the best and closest position on the oncoming fighters, fired what working guns it had at full burst, the only source of shells being fired at the four remaining fighters. Round after round few up until a flak round finally hit an unfortunate mark. The shell connected with a wing of one of the low-flying Folgores, exploding on contact and lighting the remains of the wing in black and red flames.

"_Dio_!" the pilot screamed over the radio spun fast and smashed into the base of the destroyer's bridge. The fragile fuel line lit and the plane exploded, as did the bomb attached to it, and the momentum drove the plane deep into the ship. Some pieces of the burning plane fell over the other side of the destroyer, the momentum was so great. Pieces of the Folgore crashed through windows before a bit of fuel ignited and the entire plane exploded along with its payload. Another bomb fell upon the ship from above as three Folgores passed over it. The ship buckled and shook on the already rocky seas, and then the hull at the belly of the ship tore suddenly, splitting and beginning to sink with each side's end moving to point towards the sky.

Sadio could see no more as he quickly pulled away and to the East, avoiding a straight flight as much as he could. The air was still obstructed with lead, and Sadio wondered if he could smell the smoke and sulfur in the air. During the turn, Sadio focused on other ships, a pair of transport barges retreating from the battle and heading further North, towards Italy. He straightened his flight a bit and pulled upwards as the shots fired over him from behind, coming from the only destroyer still able to fire.

"Transports are running," Sadio called in, "This is _Mattone cinque, _I'm going after them!"

"Not alone Sadio! _Mattone Quattro,_ following close and supporting!"

Sadio flew higher, gently rolling over simply to keep the transports in view and to ensure that he was following. After he was certain that he had flown past and in front of one of the trailing transports, he roughly pulled on the stick, sending the 202 up a bit as it rolled off to the side and then began to dive upside down, a split S-maneuver.

Sadio could see many things as he flew nearer, beyond the target reticule on the top of his console. He saw jeeps, tanks, boxes covered in tarps, and people running over the deck as he felt the shake of his cannons reverberating from his wings down to the soles of his feet. Short flashes of light riddled the ground as the men fired back at Sadio with whatever they could find. A small bullet punched a hole in Sadio's cockpit window with a light shatter, while his own bullets thumped the deck.

He flew past the aft of the ship and let go of the trigger, leaving behind an intact and still floating transport. "Not sure what I expected from that…" He whispered as he pulled away and began to circle around. He climbed and rolled, slowly bringing himself behind a different transport. He began to strafe quickly, pulling the trigger before the ship had reached the target cross. He watched the bullets punch through the wooden deck as if it were paper, and leave

A burst of fire and smoke mushroomed from the deck suddenly and Sadio shouted with wide eyes as he rolled out of the way. He flew towards the side of the first transport and Sadio fired again, sending bullets bouncing off the side of the metal hull. An explosion rocked its surface as another Folgore fired in a dive following Sadio's previous attack course. The planes crossed each other's path and flew away from the transports.

"They will be calming that fire for a while yet Sadio, good shooting!"

"Should we strafe it again?" Sadio half-yelled, still feeling the excitement from the adrenaline pumping into his blood.

"We might have enough ammunition for another run, but I do not think we have the fuel." _Mattone Quattro_, a young man whose name escaped Sadio's memory for the moment, answered wisely.

Sadio looked over his shoulder quickly, watching the plane follow behind him on his right side. His eyes then scoped over the smoldering wrecks of the destroyers and the burning barges as they slowly crawled forward in the waters. A small few guns flared from the decks, daring to entice and insult the planes that had caused such bloody wounds. But then other members of the crew pulled the gunners away, trying the save the ship.

Sadio's blood ran cold as his eyes narrowed on several far off figure lying still around the deck of the ship, and a few in the oily waters, visible only through the orange life vests.

Suddenly, the figures still moving started to run towards the bow of the ship, scared witless, as two preying shadows opened up on the burning deck, blowing through wood, fire, steel, and flesh. Another grand explosion ripped through each ship, finally sending the two barges to the bottom.

"Let's go home _piloti_," the 2nd lieutenant said over the radio, an obvious smile in his voice, "We've won this part of the war already."

* * *

_May 27__th__ 2021_

_ The 2__nd__ lieutenant said that, but I didn't feel like we'd won much of anything that day. Sure, we came back home. But we landed with one less plane, again. Mateos Veratti, a nice guy. He helped me clean the canopy to my plane the first time I realized it needed a thorough wipe down. _

_ He died calling God's name, wing clipped and spinning out of control. He smashed his plane into one of the destroyers, though I'm not certain that he did so purposefully._

_ When I finally was able to sit down back at the base, I realized that I was beginning to feel sick to my stomach. It was an hour before our debriefing was scheduled when I realized why. We'd already defeated them, the people on those ships, what was the point of destroying them completely? The fight must have been taken from them right…? Was there no other way?_

_ I suppose I may never have the answer to these questions…_

_ We went through the debriefing as normal, the only difference was the lackluster congratulations the base Commander gave us. He then decided to give us a bit of bad news. Our squadron protected the Southern waters. The East and the West were also protected with a little help from the US Navy, the British Royal Navy, and the German Navy, otherwise known as the Deutsche Marine. But our own Italian ships were behind on the technology, and the training. We lost nearly half of our entire fleet in the fighting and now we don't have enough to safely patrol._

_ So instead, headquarters has decided to change our strategy. Instead of protecting against an invasion, we will become invaders ourselves. _

_It's a dramatic way of putting it, I know. _

_ We were just told the details of this mission this morning, and so they tried to give us some stirring speech before they rushed us out and into our planes. I didn't even have time to write this anywhere else but inside my cockpit, waiting for the order to move out. _

_ I can't even be sure that we're attacking the right people. We seem to think that Tripoli is the only major port city where the attackers could have come from, and that's within the nation of Egypt, or has been since the end of the Fourth World War. But as far as I know, that's circumstantial. It's not enough to prove anything beyond a shadow of a doubt. But I guess that's just another reason I don't enjoy being a soldier. Orders and orders, and we're meant to follow them, not question them. _

_ The only good thing is that we won't be going into this fight alone. Beyond the fact that most of our Italian fighter squadrons will be coming with us, we'll meet up with and escort a number of Lancaster bombers. There'll also be a squadron or two of United States B-17 bombers flying in from the South._

_ We were at peace only two days ago. Technically, we're still officially at peace. The radio has made no mention of a declaration of war…_

* * *

Sadio was beginning to feel the strain of being on edge for several tense hours. Being hyped on caffeine did nothing to help his mood or his nerves.

The squadron had met up with the Lancasters halfway through their journey over the Mediterranean Sea, and their pilots had thus far been good company. Though there was still a language barrier that many could not overcome, Sadio could understand most of what was said. He simply felt no need to start a conversation with even the friendly British pilots. Sadio stretched his neck, turning to study the bulky Lancasters from time to time. It was a bomber of the same age as the Folgore, but obviously much larger and more sluggish in movement. Sadio figured it was probably harder to fly.

The plane was not built to look pretty or even intimidating and at times it would seem more like an eyesore to some of the more outspoken pilots. Sadio had to admit that the plane did seem fairly squareish and simple. Four engines kept the plane flying high and straight, attached to a pair of straight wings jutting out from a long cubed body. The tailfins extended horizontally from just behind the tail gunner position, with two fins vertically attached to each end.

Every now and again Sadio would break away from the squadron in order to carefully fly around a Lancaster, almost hovering, looking over the markings and specific details of the plane. His eyes would roam over the open windows and gunner bubbles, where a pilot might look back through thick goggles and an oxygen mask and then either wave or bob his head in greeting. Sadio could not help but raise his hand in return before pulling away and flying into formation with his squadron once more. He nearly joined up with the wrong squadron at one time.

"You would think we could see the fighting from here, eh Sadio? Ground forces were supposed to start the battle earlier..." Sadio heard over the radio as he steadied his flight within the formation.

Sadio figured the voice was Adrian, though he could not be certain from the static done by the radio. "How far are we _Tenente?_" he said, hoping to take his mind off of the boredom and tension.

"Too far, and we still don't know the full scope of the frontline."

"I don't like this. Flying under the sun, without so much as a clue to how combat is going on the ground."

"_Si_ _Sergente,_" Adrian replied through the radio, "I agree with you."

The chatter continued, grating in Sadio's ears for a little while, but at least it kept him awake. Meanwhile, the British pilots remained silent over the radio channel, either through better discipline or an interest in the Italian conversation; Sadio could not even begin to guess.

The radio crackled suddenly though, and a high-pitched whine caused Sadio to cringe. He shook his head to try and rid himself of the ringing now in his ears. A deep, and unfamiliar, voice broke through in broken and accented Italian, "Cut the chatter!" the voice said, "We've sighted a bomber flight far to the east. We can't identify them or their route. They may be enemies."

"What's their heading?" The lieutenant asked.

"South by Southwest, they're heading towards the same place we are. They likely have escorts, and their target might be the same as ours."

"How could they sortie so quickly from a surprise attack?"

"I'm not certain _tenente_ and it doesn't matter. We can't let them reach the battlfield, or else there'll be no point to this mission."

"I understand." The second lieutenant replied, "_Mattone Trei _and _Cinque_, stay with the Lancasters. Keep them flying and remember to cover the other escorts when you can, over."

"_Si Sottotenente._"

"Adrian and _Mattone Sei_, you will follow me. _Dio_ be with you all. Good luck, out."

"And to you _sottotenente_." Sadio heard the British pilot reply, this time in English.

The three Folgores broke away from the flight one after another. Adrian was the last to fall back, slowly trailing behind Sadio before pulling up into the air and following after the second lieutenant once he had pulled far enough to fly upside down. They pulled to the East and disappeared behind a passing cloud.

The silence continued with only the whirl of the engine keeping Sadio in limbo between focused and absent-minded. An hour passed, with no signal or sign of any of the planes. In the back of Sadio's mind, he began to worry.

There was no sign of combat and no sign of the bombers. Hopeful words soon followed, wondering if the unknown bombers had been enemies at all. But the hope quickly began to fade as time passed and the bomber squadron was sighted again in the same direction and with the same heading. Yet the other planes were nowhere to be seen.

The bomber flight fell farther back and hid behind spread out and darkened clouds. Sadio felt like he could smell the smoke in the air even at that altitude, watching the many burning buildings along the coast.

Sadio began to see flashes of light along the beaches and further inland, likely from cannons and tanks in intense combat. Sadio's heart pumped harder and his hands trembled as he remembered the fear of dying. But before anyone could notice, a black cloud of smoke suddenly exploded a few feet above Sadio's Folgore. Shards of hot metal fell from the cloud, passing harmlessly through the air between himself and the bombers. Soon the sky was peppered with these blasts, shaking the air and easily heard even over the roar of the engine. Sadio found a focus to his wavering mind and clamed down. He still felt dread from the approaching dangers, but he focused instead on survival and accomplishing the mission.

"Flak is heavy!" He heard over the radio from a British pilot.

"Where the hell is it coming from!" Another nearly screamed, "We aren't over the target yet!"

A blast caught the a Lancaster next to Sadio, blowing through the wing from below, "Bugger!" someone yelled, "We've got a hole on our left wing, no major damage though!"

"Thank god for small miracles." said another British pilot, this one a bit older, "All right, everyone hang tight! We've got to get through this!"

Not long after he said that, the flak died away and more screaming filled the radio, "Planes incoming! Enemy planes incoming from 6 o'clock high!"

"I've got a flight of Folgores coming in from 12 o'clock north, and they don't look very friendly."

"Escort fighters," The British translator yelled into the radio, trying to keep his Italian smooth and easy to comprehend, "do what you can to keep those damn fighters off of us!"

"_Si signore!_" the sergeant yelled as he pulled away and began to dive into the fighters coming in straight on. The other Italian escort squadrons quickly separated like Sadio as he pulled into a tight turn, beginning to scout for any other incoming planes heading for a weakness within the bomber squadron. The turn was short and quick, and he watched as a fighter flashed by him, guns blazing. The single act of turning around to look for other fighters had saved Sadio's life.

Sadio could see far enough around him to notice that the attack on the bomber squadron was well coordinated. Several enemy fighters dived down on the Lancasters, strafing along the bulky planes and passing by them without any damage along their own planes. The planes would then turn around and attack once more, this time from below.

During this moment of notice, a plane flew near Sadio's target sights almost absentmindedly. Sadio quickly pulled the trigger and peppered the engine as it passed by him completely. It turned into a blaze instantly, and began the long spinning fall to the ground.

Sadio then turned hard, following after several fighters that had been flying in the same direction as his first kill of the day. He felt a small grin come across his face as he thought this, flying after three enemy 202s as they attacked another Lancaster, already wounded with a smoking engine. Sadio fired a wild spray of bullets, trying to bring them down before they could destroy the Lancaster completely. None of the bullets hit their mark, but the squadron quickly separated and disregarded the target for the sake of their lives.

"Hey Bobby!" yelled a man through the radio in a thick west American accent, "What's the name of that pilot in the plane above us?"

Sadio ignored the question as he circled around the wounded Lancaster and began to fly deeper into the squadron again, looking for more targets.

"Damnit man, my name is Robert!" A male british voice replied, "And I don't know! We're in the middle of a fight, this isn't the time!"

Sadio quickly realized that this spat was likely between two members of the same Lancaster. This one, close enough that even Sadio would pick up the short range transmissions. It was already beginning to fade as he flew away, but not before the American replied, "Cause when we get back on the ground, we're gonna have to thank him."

Sadio began to feel a strain within his neck as he continued to push against gravity and then turned into a roll. The crossfire between planes did not continue for very long before the planes suddenly began to fall back. The reason came to them quickly in the form of black smoke and shards of metal.

Several feet off the side of a Lancaster, a flak shell exploded, and then several more began to pop quickly and at a rapid pace. For a while, a very short while, they seemed harmless and far away. But off to the side, Sadio suddenly felt the heat of a blast, even through his canopy, coupled with the sound of screeching metal.

Sadio quickly viewed the damage from a flak shell tearing apart the underside of a Lancaster's wing. The engine had turned into a bright orange flame with trailing black smoke. The propeller came to a halt and the plane itself began to tilt slightly. Then the engine itself exploded as the fuel line met with the flames, tearing through the wing completely and sending the Lancaster into a long fall. Sadio listened to the shouts and screams for help from within, turning over to the falling machine every so often. "B-Bail out!" He shouted in English, "Bail out or you'll all die!"

He could not tell if the message had gotten across. He was not even sure which of the disembodied voices had been inside of the plane. He felt a pang of guilt strike him at his chest, attacking him for trying to remain cold and detached…and silent when there had been time for such things. His mind wondered if the plane had been carrying the American who had promised to thank Sadio personally. A promise that seemed unneeded and false, Sadio could do nothing for the Lancaster and could do little more than continue to dodge flak. "We're coming up over the target! We might just have to make it through this flak boys, hold together!"

Sadio's teeth grit together as he waited, keeping his eyes open for any planes that might come out of the clouds. He felt as if just a bit of flak would not be enough.

A sudden bang shook his entire plane, down to his pedals and his stick, and Sadio began to feel the plane fight against his movements and his commands. The plane moved sluggish, and began to lose a bit of altitude.

"Pilot! Italian pilot!" Someone yelled in thickly accented Italian, someone different from the first translator, "You're leaking oil!"

Sadio strained his head over the canopy, trying to get a better look at the engine. He could see nothing, but the engine was already beginning to sputter. He focused again on the stick as the plane began to list and turn against him, to which he pulled to stay level once more. He looked up in time to see another Lancaster begin to fall, this one relatively silent, as another wave of enemy fighters had begun an assault from above. Sadio nearly shouted in frustration as he tried to pull himself higher in order to rejoin the fight, but the Folgore remained, pulled by gravity and an engine unable to cope with the strain of such a hit.

Another burst of black smoke and shrapnel suddenly filled Sadio's view and the glass over the cockpit cracked and the engine groaned and popped. Sadio's heart skipped a beat as he looked at the cracks move like lightning across the canopy, with some of the shrapnel protruding from the glass. He knew he still had life, but could not see through the black smoke even as he passed through the flak.

The reason came quickly, as he realized his engine was giving off black smoke with light flames coming off a few of the pipes. He could feel his speed die down as his 202 began to corkscrew towards the ground. "Sadio!" he heard through the radio, "Bail out! That plane is useless!"

Sadio pulled open the canopy, letting out smoke that had been trapped within the cockpit. He almost let out a breath of relief for checking the straps on his mask so often. He grabbed hold of the straps at his shoulders, trying to make sure that all of his equipment was still attached to him, fighting against the gravity of his plane's death spin. Blindly gripping onto the edge of the open cockpit, Sadio finally pulled himself out. He began to fall aimlessly, controlled by the battering of air currents and gravity.

"1…2…3" He began to count.

"Damnit! We can't keep going on like this Captain! We should abort!" Someone yelled through the radio as he fell.

"4…5…6"

"The November is going down too! We'll never make it!"

"7…8…9"

"Alpha flight to all planes. Our escort fighters have been shot down and most of our bombers are either down or falling back. Abort the mission."

"…10" Sadio finally reached over and pulls hard on a silver strap hanging from his shoulder. The pack attached to his back opened up and a parachute opened up behind him. He felt the air leave his lungs for a few seconds as the chute opened, bringing Sadio's body to a quick and jerking stop in the air, or rather, a very sudden slowing down.

Sadio eyed the sky as the planes began to pull away as quickly as they were able, most trailing smoke and flames behind them. Several of the enemy planes continued along their way, while others trailed behind the bombers, perhaps hoping to score another kill or confirming that the mission had been successful.

Sadio turned his neck from side to side. His nerves were beginning to catch up to him and overcome the adrenaline that had been in his blood. He was behind enemy lines, away from home and likely very far away from any hope of rescue. He could see an expanse of desert sands in one direction, and ocean water in another. He felt he could see a few villages far in the distance of the sands, but his focus remained on the port city not far from where he would be landing, where he could clearly hear gunfire.

He turned his eyes towards the sky, looking at the fleeing Lancasters, he instead caught sight of a full flight of bombers heading towards himself and the battlefield near him. Adrian and the Lieutenant had also failed in their mission.

-Hawk Strife


	3. Chapter 3

*I do not own the rights to Neon Genesis Evangelion. I am also not writing this for money.*

*Thanks for reading*

* * *

Even with the echo of gunfire in the sky and rumble of bombs along the ground, Sadio's fear was not enough to return the strength to his legs. He leaned against a boulder that gave him no cover from the sun bearing down on him, the sweat on his face doing nothing more than absorbing the grains of sand that had been stuck into his skin from his rough landing.

No bones were broken and he felt that those bruises he would eventually receive would at least be nothing more than superficial wounds, and such things would heal in time. But the exhaustion he felt, the pure sensation that made him feel like his muscles had atrophied, he could not remember ever having this feeling before in his life. He checked his pockets and holster, trying to regain some control over his mind and his nerves.

He found a few small rations, a bar of chocolate, and a half-full canteen of water. It was better than nothing, he realized quickly, at least he could last a day in the desert. He sighed at the thought, and felt his hand go over the wooden handle of a gun in his holster. He pulled it out, almost forgetting that had had it to begin with. It was a short round magnum with a copper colored metal plating. He quickly rubbed his fingers against a number of bullets strapped to his belt. 12 in all, and his gun already had six loaded. After a while of meditating over the weapon, he began to realize just how much good 18 bullets would do against an enemy army, or even a single soldier with the rattling sub-machine guns he could hear in the distance.

He finally found his strength, pushing himself back up to his feet as the bombs in the distance ceased. A quick glance showed that the enemy bombers that had followed his squadron had found their mark, dropped their arsenal and were now retreating with a successful mission in their belts. Following the silence from the bombs however, the guns simply grew more intensive. Sadio climbed up a sand dune, and then scoped the area using his hand to shield his eyes from the sun, not sure of what he might find but at least figuring that gunfire meant that there were still a few survivors. Still a few people that he might call allies.

A village, or at least a small and feeble extension of the port city itself, drew his attention as several men in familiar uniforms ran along the dirty and unfinished roads, firing at an unseen enemy deeper within the city. Sadio quickly took a running start towards a nearby piece of shrapnel, a metal wing with a circular insignia, the British RAF insignia. He shook his head as he tried to remain focused on the task at hand. Survival.

He spotted his next cover, a boulder 20 feet away from where he crouched. He took a few deep breaths, calming his nerves somewhat as the gunfire grew in volume, and he knew that he was simply getting closer. He bolted forward, sand skipping from his boots with each running step. He felt the sand beneath him give way suddenly, and he fell to his knees only for a moment, enough to see a pile of sand explode in front of him. An echoing gunshot covered the air, and Sadio knew he had little time to remain on the ground. He ran again, heart pounding, as another shot from the far off sniper impacted against the boulder just as he dived behind it.

Sadio was not entirely sure as to what might be the better plan now. To simply wait for what would likely be reinforcements sent by the sniper, or to keep running and hope he avoided a hole in his head, and his brains smeared across the sand. The image sent a shudder up his spine. He was not even sure as to where the sniper had been in the first place. If far enough away, Sadio was likely safe where he was for the time being. But if the sniper was close enough to move and fire at an angle.

Sadio received his answer as sparks flew from the edge of the boulder, next to where his head was. He coughed as he crouched down even lower and began to move himself around the stone. He quickly spotted another piece of charred metal, an upturned jeep, black from soot and flames. Actually, Sadio had just barely recognized the shape as a jeep, when another shot hit his cover. He took it as a signal; the sniper would likely need to load the next bullet into the chamber, if Sadio remembered correctly. He ran, and 25 feet soon became 15, and 15 became 5.

Another shot reached his ears, and the force of a swinging baseball bat slammed against his leg. He nearly cried out in fear, but instead continued to run, ignoring, or simply unaware, that his right leg was now limping. But he could not ignore the pain once he tried to relax behind the better cover given to him by the jeep. Blood ran down his leg and along his boot, and he felt a searing pain burning his calf.

He looked away from the jeep, towards the village, and heaved a sigh of relief when he realized how much closer he was now. One last sprint and he could make it. He tried to stand with that thought in mind and grimaced as he put pressure on his leg, sliding back towards the sand. "Damnit…Damnit!"

Another round fired and slammed into the jeep. He tried to keep his calm, pausing his nerves from jumping away. He did not understand why, but it was an instinct in the back of his mind. He had to wait.

Sadio took a quick look around the jeep, looking over the sand dunes before diving forward into the sand and crawling ahead. Another round fired and impacted onto the sand, close to his body. Sadio quickly rolled away and crawled forward even faster, before the edge of the ground dropped away suddenly. He landed against the soft sand with a grunt, and looked to the side, noticing a small stonewall next to a beaten road leading into the village.

He swore, not sure how he had missed this. He ran ahead, crouched low behind the stone as he entered the village. Then, he began to hear shouts in the distance between the rattles of automatic gunfire. Sadio quickly stepped into a building, aiming his gun around a darkened room, with curtains pulled over the windows. With the room seemingly clear, Sadio shut the door behind him as he entered and leaned against the wall, sighing in relief.

His heart calming down, he soon became aware of the searing pain through his leg and swore under his breath as he looked over it. The bullet had hit him directly into his lower calf and had gone through. It was not a pretty sight as blood continued to soak his jumpsuit, but the pain was worse. He sighed as he looked around the room, and then quickly tore off a piece of the curtain. He tore it into small strips of cloth before tying it tightly around his lower leg with a grunt of pain.

He paused for a few moments after that, glancing at the wound and looking over where he was sitting. It looked like a simple living room, with an upturned coffee table and a large ornate rug along the ground. There were several shelves along the wall, holding books and the remains of fragile statues and plates, many of them were scattered across the ground now. A thunderous boom shook the house and the floor, and Sadio felt the need to keep moving. He pushed himself up onto his feet, using the wall behind him to steady his stance.

He checked the gun in his hand once more, before he moved on to another room. The gunfire on the outside seemed to draw nearer as Sadio moved through a small kitchen and reached a narrow side door. The windows were blocked; either by wooden planks or by curtains, and the room remained dark. He nearly tripped over a small pot on the ground before he reached the doorway and opened it slightly.

The desert sun glared brightly as Sadio looked out. His eyes had gotten used to the dark. The gunfire became incredibly loud and Sadio rushed forward to the wall of the next building, keeping himself as small as possible. He had to find where his allies were holding, and meet up with them. He leaned to the corner and looked around it quickly, seeing a few soldiers jogging across the road. The gunfire continued, now from within the building the soldiers were moving into.

Sadio could not recognize the uniforms or any of the soldiers. He pulled away from the corner as quickly and silently as he could and moved in the other direction, following an alleyway crisscrossing another alleyway between buildings. It held more shadows over it, and also a bit more humidity.

His steps were short, and his limp was returning in full force. In fact, he felt a pain every time he moved or placed pressure on his wounded leg. He sighed as he leaned against a building, trying to block the rising pain from his mind. He took a few moments to pause and lean on his good leg, when a door was suddenly kicked open several feet ahead of him.

A soldier ran out and looked towards Sadio, wearing an unfamiliar uniform. His skin was tan and he held a wooden rifle in his hands, which he soon aimed directly towards Sadio. Sadio rushed around a corner just as the rifle fired, a plume of smoke and rock coming off the point of the wall where the bullet hit. Sadio rushed forward, and shoulder-barreled through a closed metal door.

The room was dark again, just like the last one. But this one had no other rooms to go to. It simply held several supplies, including food cans and cleaning supplies. There were several brooms and mops to the side. It was a storage closet.

Then, something plopped far behind him and Sadio turned around to see a ball-like shape roll across the sandy ground in front of him. He suddenly gulped as he rushed forward and shut the door just as the grenade exploded. A force pushed the door and Sadio through the air. Sadio hit the back of the wall hard, and felt tin cans and shelves suddenly fall onto him in clanks and clatters until he was half-buried beneath them. He could barely move, except for his neck and both his arms.

He then saw movement, and watched as the soldier who had fired at him walked in front of the door-less opening into the storage closet. Sadio did the only thing he could do, brought his gun in front of himself and pulled the trigger. The gun fired and a bullet cut through the soldier's chest on the upper right side. The soldier stood on shaking legs and reached up to his chest. Sadio could see the small hole, and the color red soak into the soldier's clothing before he tripped and fell onto his back.

Sadio remained still, staring down the length of his pistol to where the man had been standing only moments before. His eyes blinked and he quickly moved back into action as he heard more sounds, more shouts in a language he did not understand. Something moved into view, kneeling down next to the dying or dead soldier, garbed in a dark olive uniform. The same uniform that the first soldier had worn, now soaked in blood. Sadio could see another small detail, an insignia in the shape of a weaving snake.

The man's head turned and Sadio quickly pulled the trigger, sending the bullet smacking through bone and brain. The body fell instantly, slamming into the dirt. He could hear more shouting, and the weight of the supplies and debris kept him pinned against the floor and the back metal wall. Another body rushed around, and Sadio fired on instinct.

The bullet cut through the air, spiraling past the soldier's ear in less than an instant. Another bullet fired from a quick pull of the trigger, sending the next bullet through his jugular. The soldier gurgled as he reached up towards his fatal wound.

But the fight continued. Another soldier turned the corner, bumping into his dying comrade, followed by another as he aimed down the sights of his rifle, straight at Sadio. He flinched as Sadio quickly pulled the trigger on his revolver, only to receive an empty click. Sadio looked down at the gun and pulled the trigger again. Empty.

The soldier gave a sick grin as his comrade tried to stem the blood flow of their wounded compatriot. Sadio watched him aim down the sight of his rifle once more from his spot just outside of the doorway. Sadio held his breath, a chilled sweat growing on his quickly paling skin.

A shadow moved from the corner of Sadio's eye, appearing just behind the open doorway as a silver flash swiped across. A line of dark red started to ooze as the soldier gurgled and looked to the side just before a knife was suddenly impaled into his eye. A young man covered in a light olive green garb appeared around the corner with brown leather boots and a black pistol in one hand. He swung himself around, aiming for a split second over the remaining soldier's head before he pulled the trigger. Red and pink smeared across the wall as the body slumped over, and Sadio got a better look at his rescuer.

He looked no older than Sadio himself, though the other man had a much darker tan. The olive green garb had several familiar metal hooks and harnesses that dangled empty from the simple clothing. Though strange for most soldiers, Sadio recognized them instantly as the jumpsuit for pilots. He also noted a badge sewn on the pilot's shoulder, sporting red and white stripes, a blue square and several white stars; an American pilot.

"Hey there pal," The man said with a simple grin as he stepped closer and looked over at Sadio's shoulder, where his own flag was sewn on securely. Sadio watched as the man's grin fell, "Damn, Italian huh?"

Sadio looked confused for a moment as the man began mumbling to himself, leaving Sadio to try and dig himself out of the clutter by himself. It was then that the other man turned around, "Ah…_aiuto_." He says quickly, "That's 'help' right? _Me aiuto_." He says with a confident grin on his face.

Sadio paused for a moment as he finally dug himself out and stood up. "Right," the other soldier continued, "Me Seer. Me American. _Amico! Amico aiuto!"_

"Are…are you a moron?" Sadio responded in English as he dusted the front of his jumpsuit. Seer, on the other hand, froze with his mouth agape as he stared back at Sadio.

"Y-you mean…you could have spoken English this whole time?"

"This whole time? I just met you."

"That's not the point!" The soldier said pointing his finger towards Sadio's face, looking cross and gritting his teeth.

"Hey! Lieutenant! Are you done! We gotta go!" Someone yelled from the outside, again in English and with a thick Brooklyn accent.

Seer looked over his shoulder outside before he looked back at Sadio and cocked his head towards the exit, "Well we should get moving, come on."

Sadio silently nodded and stepped forward, before he nearly fell to his knees at the reminder of pain in his leg. He looked down to see it still fresh and bleeding, now that he had put pressure on it again. "Damn…that really hurts."

"Yeah, that doesn't look too good." Seer said quickly as he took Sadio's arm and slung it over the back of his neck. "Come on, we've got a jeep. We need to head out of here as quickly as we can."

Leaning on each other, the two moved on out of the doorway. The two kicked sand as they limped around the corner of the building and down the shadowed alleyway towards the dirt street passing through the town, where a khaki jeep with scratched out markings sat. The engine was running and two soldiers sat on it, one standing behind the machine gun turret, and the other holding a wooden Springfield rifle in his hands.

Sadio grunted slightly as he sat down into the driver's seat, and was quickly handed a first aid kit from the soldier behind him. The two were wearing desert camouflage patterns over their vests and tactical uniforms, and looked more like ground troops than he and Seer did.

Seer quickly sat into the drivers seat and grabbed hold of the gear while pressing down on the clutch, "Hang on tight!" He yelled as the engine roared and the jeep pulled forward. It pulled away from where Sadio had first entered the town, heading along what seemed like an empty and silent road, though Sadio though he could still hear the sound of gunfire in the distance as he tied several bandages over and around his wounded leg. As he finished dressing the injury, he could notice that the two soldiers behind him were attentive, and pointing their weapons to different sides with a serious look in their eyes.

The soldier with the rifle, a fair skinned young man with dark brown hair and a five-o-clock shadow, noticed Sadio's looks before he reached onto the ground at the back and handed him something. Sadio grabbed hold of it, happy to have a weapon with full casings of ammo. "It's an old styled Thompson. It'll help us if you could keep an eye on the right side." The young man said with a forced smile before he scooted over and under the turret machine gun, and began to aim his rifle towards the jeep's left side.

The other soldier standing behind the turret held a brighter shade of short orange brown hair, though nothing seemed to grow on his face. In fact, Sadio had a hard time believing that the soldier was anywhere near his own age. He looked like he was barely eighteen. His helmet seemed too big for his head, though his eyes seemed cold. He looked down at Sadio from his turret before he spoke in a serious tone but a young voice, "Keep your eyes on your side." The voice had a light Brooklyn accent.

Next to him, Seer laughed as he pushed the sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose, "That's pretty cold, you know?" He turned to Sadio and pointed his thumb towards each soldier, "Don't mind them, they must think little of us flyboys on the ground. The one with the big gun is Private Miller and the one with the rifle is Private Jonas. Don't worry too much about them."

"And I'm Lieutenant Seer Reins," He finally said as he pointed to himself with a wide grin and a confident wink.

"Ah…Katsuragi, Sadio. Airman." Sadio replied a bit shortly, keeping his rifle aimed towards the right side of the road as they passed by building after building at a quickening pace.

"Well that doesn't sound all that Italian, if you ask me." Seer replied with a little confusion, his eyes returning to the road.

Sadio shrugged his shoulders as he focused on the empty windows, balconies, alleyways and doorways they passed by. "Where are we headed?" He asked, avoiding the earlier comment. He scratched his neck as a few flecks of sand bounced onto him.

"We're headed to an airbase not far W-Oh shit!" The Jeep came to a sudden screeching halt, and all eyes looked forward at the sight of a hulking steel tank halfway through the wall of a building. Their own engines rumble was drowned out by the heavier thuds coming through the Tanks steel armor plating. Sadio could swear he could feel the vibrations running through his bones, but he soon forgot that feeling as a screeching sound suddenly came, followed by the sight of the tanks cannon turning towards them.

"Drive! Drive!" Someone shouted suddenly, and Seer happily obliged as he shifted the gear and drove past the Tank as quickly as the Jeep would allow. They passed under the turret, and Sadio wondered if his heart had stopped completely as he noticed another of the machine gun slots on the side moving around.

He kept his eyes focused on the tank behind him, as did Miller and Jonas as they drove down the street. The tank drove out and onto the street, with the turret following suit and aiming towards them. "Seer! Turn!"

"Goddamnit!" Seer shouted as he spun the wheel and popped the brake to send the car drifting down a narrow street. A terrible sound shook the air behind them and tore through a part of the building behind them. The rubble clattered and crashed behind the jeep as they continued to speed away.

"That was close man," Jonas whispered as he kept a tight grip on the edge of the Jeep during the next turn.

"Fucking too close!" Miller shouted as he kept his turret trained behind them, licking his lips and wiping a bit of sweat and sand stuck to his cheeks.

"Hey!" Seer shouted over his shoulder, "Eyes up front! We'll have bad guys all over the place after that cannon blast!" Barely seconds after those words, the familiar rattle of gunfire sounded and parts of the dirt and sand ahead and around them began to pop up into the air.

Miller pulled around quickly and started firing before he could get a clear look at anyone firing down at them. Sadio nearly jumped at the terrible sound as chunks of stone and concrete fell apart from the massive gun. Sadio quickly aimed his own weapon, searching through windows and open doorways. If he barely noticed a glint behind a passing curtain or a shadow on top of a balcony, he fired wide shots in that area, and hoped to either hit or scare whatever it was long enough for the jeep to get away. Either way, he felt the pull of the trigger give way all to easily, and the kick sent the butt of the gun digging into his armpit.

He felt the gun stop kicking suddenly, and looked down to see the bolt had moved forward on the gun. He pressed against a switch and pulled out the empty cartridge, and threw it over the side of the jeep; he looked around to see Seer holding a cartridge full on ammo. "Just look to the box on your left, we're stocked for a while!"

Sadio slid the cartridge into the slot under his rifle and pulled the bolt back along the groove, "Where did you get so much ammo?"

"…Plenty of people didn't make it, friend. I think that's enough said."

Sadio had little time to think over the connotations of those words as another bullet suddenly bounced off of the hood of the jeep, starting small sparks. He aimed his rifle and fired wild shots towards a balcony, and could have sworn he heard screams coming from it through the gunfire all around them, but he decided it better to not focus on it.

After another few tight twists and turns through the town, they passed under a large archway that followed a road leading through the desert sands, but with the ocean breeze not far from them. A few tense and quiet moments passed as the four looked out over the dunes. Eventually though, even Sadio felt his rifle drift down and lay on his lap as he looked around.

* * *

_May 27__th__ 2021_

_ As I wrote the date again…I realized that even though it feels like it's been so long, it's only been a few hours. I could be dead soon…in fact, I should be dead. _

_ I survived under a pile of debris and a growing pile of bodies, filled with friend and foe. And now we're driving down a road that weaves between two deserts. Each with its own dunes that move at its own pace and fluidity. The ocean is close enough that I think I can smell the salt in the air, even with all the smoke and gunpowder mixed in. But I could be dreaming. I might be too hopeful._

_ Lieutenant Reins. Private Miller. Private Jonas._

_ Companions on a journey of survival, if you can even call us that. _

_ After a while, Seer asked me questions. What happened to the forces coming in from the North. I gave him what information I could, which mainly focused on our airplanes getting shot down over the water, or simply exploding in the air. But Seer could only give me the same story. He flew in with several other squadrons from the West in order to cover the ground forces that were coming in along the beaches, where Jonas and Miller had come in. _

_ The American planes fell under a wave of hidden anti-aircraft guns, and with no cover the ground forces barely pushed past the outer defenses, and all with massive casualties. Miller and Jonas barely said anything about it. I suppose they haven't seen many familiar faces since they came in…I can relate. _

_ Now all we have is the Airbase to the West where the American forces had launched. With any luck, we could see a few friendly faces, or at least a few empty planes we can take to safer ground. Wherever that may be._

_ Seer doesn't seem too worried about it. "One step at a time," he says. How the hell is he still calm?_

* * *

The jeep kicked up a dust trail as the sun began to set in the distance behind the four soldiers. The sky turned red, orange and purple. And the grains of sands on the desert dunes reflected their color. To Sadio's eye, it looked as if the sky had begun to bleed into the horizon, as if the sands were really a sea of red.

Sadio had long since stopped writing in his journal. He had found the words difficult from the beginning, and now nothing of interest came to his pen. He had no opinion to give.

Beyond the hum of the engine and the occasional clanking coming off of the Jeep and its suspenders, the ride was quiet. Sadio at least felt a little relaxed since they had not heard any gunfire over the hour-long drive.

With the battlefield so far behind them, the desert was devoid of bodies or wreckage. "It's a good sign," Seer had said earlier, "It means that no ones been fighting here. The Allies should still be holding this territory."

Sadio had not responded, but the knowledge made sense in the back of his mind. And with the sun at their backs, they had a clear view of road ahead of them, at least for the moment until it became almost pitch black.

A crack broke the silence and the jeep began to swerve heavily within Seer's hands. It suddenly turned and slammed onto its side, with momentum dragging it along for a few more moments, before it came to a complete stop. Sadio swore under his breath as he unbuckled himself and shook the blurriness from his eyes. A number of cartridges had fallen out of the box and onto the sand, but Sadio was able to quickly find his Thompson even among the scattered pile. Seer had already pulled himself out of the drivers seat, and Jonas was leaning against the back end of the jeep, rifle in hand like nothing had happened.

It was Miller that had been caught completely off guard and flung farther than the jeep had landed. But Sadio could see that he was all right and he pushed himself off the dirt ground and checked himself over. "You all right?" Sadio asked.

Miller nodded his head and waved in return from a few feet away, "I'm fine!"

Another crack cut through the air and Miller's head jerked back as he fell against the ground. Sadio could barely believe what he had seen, and continue to see as Miller never moved again.

"Sniper!" Seer yelled, "Heads down!"

The top of the jeep suddenly popped with sparks as Sadio quickly pulled back against the hood and crouched down. "Damn…I-I think Miller's down!"

Seer looked over at Sadio and then turned to Miller before shaking his head, "Then there's nothing we can do. We have other problems."

Jonas then reached into his breast pocked and pulled out a small circular mirror, which he then aimed around the corner of the jeep slowly and gently.

"What do you see?" Seer asked as he looked over his pistol, the only other weapon they had besides the turret currently hanging from its post.

"Three pairs of headlights. I'd say two jeeps and something a little bit bigger than that."

"It can't be tank can it? They shouldn't be able to move as fast as us!" Sadio quickly exclaimed as he rechecked the ammo in his gun.

"Tanks can move plenty fast." Jonas replied and shook his head, "But it's no tank. They wouldn't have bothered with a sniper if it had been a tank. Either way, they're headed here and headed here fast."

A few rounds of gunfire suddenly sounded off and banked against the belly of the jeep, a few going to far as to punch holes through the bottom. Seer swore under his breath as he watched Jonas put away the mirror, it was too likely that it would be shot at now.

"I don't suppose we have a plan, right?"

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking!" Seer whispered through gritted teeth as the gunfire became louder and more hit their mark against the jeep. "Geez, it sounds like a whole goddamned platoon back there!"

Jonas and Seer quickly aimed their weapons over the edges of the jeep from where they crouched, blindly firing at whatever was headed their way. Sadio quickly followed suit as he gently aimed the barrel of the Thompson over the side and fired long bursts down the road. In response, the fire grew more intensive against the jeep itself and Sadio pulled back in fear of getting his hand blown off. He turned to see that Seer and Jonas had done the same.

The sound of several rumbling engines reached their ears as the gunfire died down, and the luminous white light from the vehicles covered the dirt road on either side of the jeep. The shadow coming off of the jeep was the only thing keeping them safe for now.

"Hey, soldiers!" A male voice shouted in English with an African accent, "Surrender now! Or die!"

"Stirring choices there…" Seer whispered as he aimed his gun over the top of the jeep and fired off a few shots. He nearly felt the reply of gunfire as another hole punched through, right next to his neck. He placed a hand just behind his head to make sure he had no wound to show for it.

They could barely hear the man cackle as the gunfire slowly ceased. "Last chance," he shouted from behind them, "Surrender or die!"

"What guarantee do we have that we'll live if we surrender?" Sadio half-shouted over his shoulder, as Seer and Jonas remained silent, their eyes looking ahead of them in thought.

There was more laughter as the man responded, "You seem like a clever boy. You'll figure it out. You have three seconds to comply."

Sadio turned over to Seer and Jonas, who could only shrug as they double-checked their ammo and cocked their guns. The countdown continued from behind over the light hum of their engines as Sadio kept a tight grip on his gun.

Just before the man finally yelled one, several pairs of blinding lights flashed. There was a pause of shock as Sadio, Seer and Jonas covered their eyes from the sudden white light. Then, a series of cracks and rattles sounded followed by a deeper thunderous shot that shook the earth. Sadio could barely see flames burst with each gunshot through the luminous light. And as quick as it came, the gunfire finished into a ringing silence.

Still, they could feel their own pulse, and their eyes worked well enough to look over at each other. They then saw shadows move across the bright lights ahead of them, and grow larger as figures casually walked closer to them.

"You lads enjoy your little rest?" spoke a deep British voice from just ahead of them. The three remained silent, still in a bit of shock. The man waved them over to the bright lights, "Move it. We can't stay long. Bring your guns."

Seer was the first to eventually move, standing up, followed quickly by Jonas. Sadio, on the other hand, remained unfocused until he felt a strong grip pull him up from his arm. He absent-mindedly locked his legs and stood up as the soles of his boots touched flat against the ground. He gave a nod to Seer, who released his grip as he walked over to their rescuer.

Sadio watched as Jonas walked over in a different direction, where Miller lay on the dirt road. Sadio followed quickly before anyone could notice, and watched as Jonas heaved a light sigh, reached around Miller's neck and tugged away his dogtags. "He's dead. It was probably instant, if it makes you feel any better." Jonas said as he pocketed the dogtags and then looked back towards Sadio, and then behind Sadio.

Sadio followed his gaze and came across the brutal remains of three vehicles, lights flickering as the batteries began to die. Sadio could see holes across the ground and a few flames burning ends sticking out of the remains. He could see several bodies vaguely, perhaps even pieces of bodies, before the lights finally died and he could barely see anything in the darkness.

"Let's get going!" Someone yelled from behind.

"W-where to, exactly?" Sadio asked, finally finding his voice again.

"Isooga Airbase," the British man said, "We need to get out of this hellhole." It was then that Sadio started to get a clearer look at who had saved them, along with several other soldiers standing next to jeeps, trucks and a few long-nozzled 88 millimeter cannons. The British man was big and tall, filling out his tactical vest better than most veteran soldiers. He had a thick handlebar moustache under his nose, the bridge of which looked like it had been broken and fixed several times. He also wore a felt cap over his head, with a unique emblem on the middle.

As he began to bark out orders, another man came by and patted Sadio on the shoulder, "Come on. You guys can rest in the back of the truck. Captain Price has everything handled right now." Sadio barely acknowledged him as he climbed into the back of the tarp-covered truck, and found himself tired already as he sat down. He barely remembered the wound on his leg or noticed that Jonas and Seer had climbed up behind him before he blacked out completely.

* * *

_Well that's where I'm at so far. Expect the next chapter at some point, it'll take a very long time but I'll get this story to the end someday._

_~Hawk Strife_


	4. Chapter 4

*I do not own the rights to Neon Genesis Evangelion. I am also not writing this for money.*

*Thanks for reading*

{}{}{}{}

The sky was black and strangely silent as Sadio held onto the stick, keeping his plane aloft as flashes of bullets and flak tore through the air around him. He held onto his breath as he twisted and turned, screeching between shadowed fighters, black as the sky and very fearsome as each burst of flame spawning from its bullets allowed just enough light for Sadio to see the blood red eyes of the enemy pilots.

He jerked as the plane shuddered under the peppering bullets from above. A fighter closed in fast behind him. Sadio tore away into a roll as holes continued to appear along his wings and tail.

He could see flames begin to burn through the sides of the wing as he started to fall, out of control and corkscrewing to the ground. He watched the dizzy ground come closer, but his hand couldn't grasp the stick, and his feet pushing against the pedals caused nothing to change.

With a sudden thump, it was over.

Waking up with a quick groan, he found a pair of solid leather boots planted firmly on his groin. With a quick turn of his head, he found none other than Seer, grinning wide as if nothing strange had happened.

"Get a good night's rest?" He asked, eyes smiling. Sadio decided not to answer as he twisted around, grimacing at the dull throbbing pain he could feel on the lower half of his left leg. He pulled up the hem of his pants, getting a quick look at the light pink spot within a thick wrapping of white bandages.

"Yeah, they took pretty good care of you while you were knocked out." Seer said as he leaned against the yellow mud brick wall of the base's medical room. Sadio looked over the rows of empty white beds as he finished lacing his boots, and kicked the floor a bit to test his strength.  
He gritted his teeth with a hiss, feeling a sharper pain with every ounce of pressure he set on his leg. With an unsteady balance, and a pain that brought the familiar sensation of when he was first shot, he eventually rose up to his feet. A tight grip formed on his shoulder, and Sadio released a light sigh of relief as pressure was suddenly lifted from his leg.

Seer appeared next to him, hanging the Italian's arm over his neck as he supported the two of them towards the open doorway exiting the medical room and entering a hallway leading towards a door with a window. "Don't go sweating too much now," Seer said with a joking smile, "We don't have the water for that kind of nonsense."

"You sure enjoy your jokes, don't you?" Sadio remarked as he watched the door open into the bright sun, and they stepped out onto the dry sand. The rays of the blazing sun forced Sadio's eyes half-shut, as he tried to see where exactly they were both standing.

Once his eyes had focused enough, he noticed a long stretch of flattened earth stretching a good bit into the distance with a familiar tower near its end. A runway. Several other flat and simple buildings sat on each side of the runway, with a few moving shadows that Sadio could barely see as Seer restarted their little journey towards one of the camouflaged, tarp-covered hangars nearby.

"Just a bit more," Seer said as they continued and pushed through the loose tarp near the front, a rope tether flapping loosely in the hot breeze. Inside, the temperature felt cooler to Sadio, but only barely. Instead of smelling dry sand, he noticed instead the scent of sweat, oil, and gasoline mixing together.

There were several moving bodies, running from one place to another around a large dark green aircraft parked neatly at the center of the hangar. Several people were working on the sides, pulling wires and tubes and rearranging them, or applying a blowtorch to the outer hull. There were also sparks that Sadio could see through the windows at the cockpit and at the gunners port on one side, showing welders hard at work with…something. But even with all of the radically changed parts and some missing pieces, Sadio recognized the aircraft.

The B-22. The Flying Fortress.

"This where you went off to?" An admonishing voice with a British accent said, coming from a broad shouldered man with a thick mustache. "Damned fool. I don't need a cripple to slow us down."

Seer hesitated for a moment as a strange grin appeared on his face, "Sorry about that Captain Price. I just figured-"

"Stop figuring." Price said with a stern look, "You're a Junior Lieutenant. Wait for orders, or you can go ahead and leave. See if you can find some other way out of this country."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." Seer said calmly, the grin on his face fading but still there.

It was then that Captain Price turned his attention to Sadio, and raised an eyebrow. "All right then, Italian. I suppose you're a pilot. Maybe not a half-decent one, but lucky enough all things considered."

Sadio wasn't sure if he could consider that a compliment. "Sir, Airman Sadio."

"And you're not even an Ensign." Price said with a sigh as he shook his head and took a look at the work being done on the B-22. A few plates of metal were being fastened onto the body of the aircraft. "Well Italian, you're on inventory I suppose. Take a look at the stores of supplies in the airplane, and make sure we have enough of everything."

The Captain then passed a sheet of paper that had several items written into it, ranging from ammo rounds, to kilograms of fuel and medicinal supplies. Price waived the two of them off, and Seer led them to a small seat and table behind the tail of the plane. There were several half-full wooden cases sporting belts of .50 caliber rounds, to jugs of smelly liquids, and wrapped bricks of MREs.

"Where did all this come from?" Sadio asked as he tried to make sense of the mess, and his orders.

Seer shrugged his shoulders, "Not too sure, but I'd have to assume that they've been scrounging up everything they could within the base. I don't know much about it, but I think we…ah, that is US forces, set this base up for the long haul."

"Didn't think you'd get beaten back so quickly huh?"

Seer nodded his head, strangely cool-headed about the dilemma, "No, I suppose not."

There was a small clamor as a young man in a British GI uniform crawled to the tail gun and called out through the small opening that served as the gun port, "Hey Seer!" He said in an almost squeaky voice, "Can you get back in here? Fritz needs to explain something again." At that, Sadio thought he heard a yell in the background.

Seer nodded over his shoulder with a wave before he turned back to Sadio, "You good?"

Sadio looked back at the simple question. No, he really wasn't good. Stuck behind enemy lines and doing an inventory check for some reason he was not told and couldn't discern for himself. Yet the strangest thing was he wasn't unfamiliar with the situation, he'd almost gotten used to that aspect of military life. "I'll manage," he said truthfully as he started to count the jugs of gasoline within one of the crates, and followed along the written list he'd been given.

()()()()

_May 28th 2021  
Just reading through the daily entries to this journal, I'm starting to feel a little lost and confused. Things have moved so fast since the failed attack, and I've barely had time to breath or understand it all.  
_

_Here at Isooga airbase, where I'm still trying to heal my leg up, I was put to work as an inventory counter. Couldn't tell you why or for what though. All I know is that we have several belts of ammunition, enough to fight for days on end, and maybe even win, enough gas to drive cars for weeks, or maybe a plane for a few days, food to last the platoon a week, medical supplies, oil, tools, welding equipment, and so on.  
_

_Eventually, everything I counted was hauled into the body of a Boeing 22 Bomber, aptly labeled as the Flying Fortress. At the same time, there was quite a bit of rearranging going on inside of the plane, and plates of metal being soldered along the inside of the plane._

The plane looked ready to fly, if a little heavy from the extra armor, and maybe a little fiercer than I remember from some old reels and the pictures I've seen. We weren't finished with the work, but at some point after the sun had set, we were called out, and moved to a small room where several people I hadn't seen before were waiting.

_A few bars of tasteless MREs were passed along. Well tasteless is maybe the wrong word for this chunky thing…Anyhow, even the taste was overpowered by the sweat and dirt I'm smelling. It's obviously been a long day for everyone…  
_

()()()()

As Sadio finished up his journal entry, tiredly biting into the brick in his hand that only barely passed as food, a few more people scooted along the crowded benches within the room. One person's musk was replaced by another as Sadio tried to avoid gagging, until some familiar soldiers sat down next to him. Seer Reins, Jonas, and a third unfamiliar face on the far side of them.

Seer still had his grin plastered on his face, but what he had to smile about Sadio couldn't figure out. "Get your fill of counting while we did the real work?" Seer said with a chuckle as he unwrapped his own MRE bar.

'Oh I see now,' Sadio thought as he pointedly ignored the question and stayed focused on his own meal. Whether Seer was bothered by this or not, he didn't show.

"_Wer is dieser Kerl?_" Someone said suddenly in a gruff voice. Sadio turned to the unknown soldier, now speaking to Seer as he gestured towards Sadio.

"_Er ist ein pilot aus Italien. Sein name ist Sadio._" Seer responded with little difficulty before he took another bite of his meal.

The German-speaking soldier was well groomed despite the spots of soot and dirt rubbed against his cheeks. He had piercing blue eyes and short blonde hair parted to one side, as if he had been brushing it in that direction all his life. He was a slight bit stockier than Seer or Sadio, and wore tanned camouflage, suggesting him to either be a soldier or at least belonging on the ground.  
The man took a look at Sadio and nodded his head, "_Rufen sie mich an Heinrich._" He said, to which Sadio could only look at Seer in complete confusion.

"He says his name is Heinrich. He's one of the only German soldiers that made his way to the base."

Sadio nodded for a bit, before a strange thought crossed his mind. "What was that about Fritz then?"

Without very much warning, Sadio felt a hand grip the front of his shirt and tug him forward, and it wasn't long before he realized that the German had somehow made an incredible reach to grab hold of him. There was a soft, yet strained, smile on his face as he nodded his head, "_Heinrich_" he said with some emphasis.

Sadio dumbly nodded, "Heinrich…yes." He tried to give off a smile, but wasn't sure if the muscles on his face were working the way they were supposed to. Even so, Heinrich released his grip and went to his meal with a bit more energy than the rest.

Sadio turned to see Seer holding back a laugh, "Sorry. That's just been Maine's way of screwing around with him." Seer stopped laughing for a moment as he continued, "He- Heinrich I mean- told me that he introduced himself to Maine. And all Maine did was scrunch up his face and started spouting off random German words to get him riled up."

Sadio sighed as he dusted himself off a bit. It wasn't all that amusing. "And you know how to speak German?" Sadio said with disbelief.

Seer raised an eyebrow as he tapped the side of his nose, "You never know what surprises you'll find with me, 'Eyetie'. I'm quite the linguist."

"Except when it comes to Italian apparently." Sadio said with a smirk, which Seer found he couldn't match.

But, before Seer could respond, the door to the briefing room swung open, letting in a few unfamiliar faces, and then Captain Price.

"All right you louts!" One of the men shouted, quieting the men within a few seconds, "You boys need to pay attention to this, it might save your skin."

Price looked over the entire group of soldiers huddled together within the confines of the room, uncomfortable and somewhat unhappy, but at least they were alive. "I know you're all wondering what the next step is from here, and what we've been doing all day. So keep your ears open, and we'll clear that up right now."

The Captain continued, "We're reinforcing and renovating those B-22's, so we can escape here and head straight for safer lands, preferably Italy. With the planes we have, and the amount of people here, it'll be a tight squeeze, but at least we'll be able to get to a safer location."

"We have seven B-22 Flying Fortresses here, and we want to make sure that all of them are ready to fly by sometime tomorrow. After that, we leave in the evening and take the rest of the night to make it to Italy. Simple enough, right?" The Captain said with a shrug of his shoulders as he looked around the group.

"Now, before you all start about how you're not from Italy, don't bother. We can get in contact with our countries there and be reintroduced into our forces, so we can get sent into another campaign that'll go to shit." There were a few chuckles that came from the crowd, but they grew quiet quickly.

"Captain," One of the soldiers called out as he stood up, "are we going to be able to finish without any contact from the enemy?"

"We'll see. If they were going to find us, it wouldn't be until tomorrow. But at the very least, that might give us enough time to finish the twenty-twos, and we would leave before they could mobilize." He paused to take a breath as the information sunk in, "But that's only a best case scenario. We're going to have people rotate on watches and patrols through the night and tomorrow morning. I'd rather you all felt the need to fight your way out of this."

Sadio could already feel a chill in his veins as he thought of that, fighting again on the unfamiliar ground. He felt even more constricted with the limp he had been sporting for a while, though he had forgotten about the pain some time before.

An anxious silence fell across the room as they each contemplated their situation. A few people, like Seer, whispered in alternate languages, translating for those who couldn't follow by themselves. Sadio looked up as a soldier farther ahead raised his hand, "Sir?" he asked, "Do we at least know who the enemy is?"

Captain Price stayed silent, eyes aimed straight at the soldier with a calm insense look, his facial hair hiding traces of his emotion from his face. "No, we don't."

With that, the Captain ended the briefing and started setting up the list for those who would stand watch and patrol, and those who would rest.

()()()()

_May 29th 2021_

_I got about five hours or so of sleep before someone kicked me awake, so I might start my shift on the watch. _

_Actually, the Captain was ready to get me to work right from the start, til he saw my limp. Not that I don't mind the rest, but there was a look in his eye that annoyed me. It wasn't pity. It was almost like...disappointment. I remember, I wanted to lash out at him. I'm injured, not incontinent. I can do my share of work if I have to._

But I didn't. What was the point? I was just a scrawny fighter pilot who was lucky to be alive. What makes me so special then? I'm not a good soldier. I'm not a good person.

_I can't even tell the truth when I write in this journal. _

_Anyhow, I think maybe the Captain saw that I wanted to say something…but he didn't make any mention of it. Just made his decision and sent me away._

_The German soldier, Heinrich, was sent to rest as well. And by process of needing a translator for him, so was Reins. I'm not sure what was decided for Jonas, I didn't get a chance to hear as people started to order us out to make space. Then we all got straight to either resting or working. _

_I wasn't tired when I woke up, for some reason. Maybe it was the fact that I slept so heavily the night before. Or maybe it was because I was still thinking about what the Captain said. Maybe we'd have to fight our way out of here sometime tomorrow. But could we? _

_We couldn't win in an attack with some of our better numbers. And now we're suppose to hope to fight off an attack with what we have? That we can't even see coming? Seer had said he was optimistic. I told him he was delusional before I went to my post._

_At the moment, the night is surprisingly cold (or unsurprisingly if you ask the other watchman, completely aware that the desert gets cold in the night), and instead of walking around to warm myself up, I've been placed on a static guard duty on the flat roof of the barracks where I had been sleeping, facing East. They gave me a refurbished springfield rifle with a scope on it, and the CO decided to give me a few pointers on how to shoot it. Though, I'm told we aren't meant to do more than scare any enemy soldiers into cover. Killing targets would be another level of difficulty altogether, he told me. _

_At the very least, this post has given me a clear view of the sun coming up from the horizon. It's one of the few reasons I enjoy writing in this thing. It gives me a chance to describe a sight I could never paint or show in another way. My sketches are all right, I suppose, but that can't show the glow in the distance, burning through the sky until the sun finally rose past the edge of human sight and painted the world with an dark orange. The shadows on the sands shrank and fell away, as if running in fear from something they must have known would come anyways, because it had come before, again and again. _

()()()()

Sadio finally closed up his journal as he listened to whispered voices below, belonging to the patrolmen who had been marching around the building. He was lying down on the edge of the roof, propping his head and his rifle up over his crossed arms as he looked towards the edges of his vision, obscured to some degree by the darkness, but slowly looking farther as the sun continued to rise.

The pain in his leg had subsided enough, and he could barely hear some of the muffled sounds of metal pounding and sparks flaring behind the closed doors of the hangars on the other side of the airfield. Time was moving forward again, or so it seemed. Sadio took a quick glance through the scope of the rifle, now able to see clearer and farther with the help of the lens and the light.

He saw next to nothing though. A few barren red rocks, and a hill of packed dirt, made up a mountain that stood along the East of the airfield, blocking sight from both sides. He could make out a few roads as they spread across and fell over the edge of another dune, but little more than that.

The building he lied on stood on the Southeastern edge of the airfield. From one of the outer corners at the foot of the building, facing the rest of the dunes, sandbags and tables were stacked on top of each other, creating a semi-circular barrier that extended past the building for three or four yards. There was still a bit of work being done on the sandbags while the patrols continued around, and within, the airfield.

"Hey Italian!" Sadio heard someone whisper fiercely from just below him. Taking a quick peek below, he spotted one of the patrol groups taking a small rest 3 floors down, though he couldn't recognize any of them. "You gettin' used to that rifle yet, you cripple?"

"Oh," Sadio whispered, "this isn't going to be a waste of time."

"How refreshing," said the British sniper that had been paired with Sadio, moving over from the other side of the roof. The sniper lightly cupped his hand around his mouth as he called down sarcastically, "What's the matter lads? Get your fill of eating sand already?"

"Aw, screw you!" The same one yelled, "Ain't nothin' wrong with us taking a break. Tired of having sand everywhere."

"Yes, I'm sure that sounds terrible." The Brit answered, "Well don't be long now. We've got our own work to do."

"What work!?" said another American. His own tone matched the first in spite, but added anger to it as well, "We're walking around risking our necks while you two get to lie on your backs all day."

"Yes, I can see how that might seem like that to those of a lesser intellect," the Brit said with a quick wink, "but we've been placed with this high responsibilities for a very good reason. We're just better shots than the lot of you."

"The hell you are!" The first soldier shouted while the others scoffed, "I'd be able to outshoot you two any day!" He shook his rifle up at them, unable to find any other means of expressing his feelings of disrespect.

"Besides, the Italian's just up there cause he got wounded, and he's a pilot! He might as well be deadweight. Ain't that right?" The second soldier shouted, to which Sadio simply avoided to respond and looked down his sights to scope out the horizon again. At least he didn't feel anxious anymore.

"Oh, I'm sure the Italian can shoot somehow, not to worry. But should you have any problems with that, I suppose you can try to change Captain Price's mind on the matter. That sounds like something he'd willingly get pushed around to do." The Brit said with a satisfied smile.

Sadio could understand why, as the soldiers below them found little to respond back with. They muttered to themselves and started back on their patrols. He also couldn't imagine picking a fight with someone like Captain Price, or even trying to give him orders of any sort.

"There we go," the Brit said as they walked off, "nothing but bark and bluster. Those yanks wouldn't know what to do with a rifle if it came with a buxom blonde and a picture-book instruction manual."

Sadio held back a snicker as the image popped into his mind.

"Wallace C. Fletcher," the Brit said quickly as he stuck his hand out in introduction, "Pleasure to make your acquaintance sir."

"Ah…Sadio Katsuragi," he stammered out finally as he shook the other man's hand. The Brit had a strong grip and a fairly confident smile under his neatly trimmed mustache. He sported a tanned beret over his coffee-colored hair, and looked taller at least from Sadio's perspective.

Wallace nodded his head as he looked back over to the edges of the rocks and the dunes, "Came in with the Italian boys, did you? Nasty business that."

Sadio nodded, "Seems like it worked that way all around."

"You are a pilot, right? Have you met with anyone else from your flight?"

Sadio answered slowly, a somber tone as he tried to recall the faces of the other Italian military members he had met during his short time on the airfield, "No…no, no one in my squadron anyways."

"Sorry to hear that then," Wallace said quickly and without hesitation, "At least _you_ made it here."

"Yeah. I was lucky and met up with a few Americans after I hit the ground." Sadio said, "…Can't really say where I'd be otherwise."

"Well, it seems even luck has its place in the skills of a soldier. I myself came in with a decent platoon, and even a few tanks from the beachhead." The Brit said as he looked through the scope of his rifle, "The landing had gone well enough, and we were ready to start a night attack on a target of…some minor importance, I imagine."

"Well, before we'd realized it, the enemy had already surrounded us. The bloody fight for victory turned into a fight to retreat. The tanks were blasted apart…and I haven't seen much of me mates since I got here, just a few boys from other groups of the same platoon."

At first, Sadio couldn't hear anything but a casual demeanor in Wallace. There was an occasional word that seemed to have been bitten off a little roughly, but the Brit kept an even tone as he aimed and searched for enemies. "Sounds like we both have our share of luck to spend then." Sadio commented and smirked, "We should start playing poker with the others."

The Brit laughed, "There's an idea. We'll round everyone up and shake these bastards out of every last pound and penny they've got!"

After that the two kept their conversation minimal, content that they had done enough of an introduction. Before long, the afternoon sun was hanging in the sky. Sadio drank a mouthful of water from his canteen, wiping the sweat from his brow with the edge of his sleeve.

He wasn't the only one sweating. Below him, there were a few soldiers on watch. Most sat behind the sandbags, hoping that they could, to some degree, find some form of shadow to protect themselves from the heat. Sadio waved as he noticed that Seer and Hans had found their way next to one of those sandbags, both looking as miserable as he was. "You enjoying the breeze up there?" Seer half-shouted.

"What breeze?" Sadio whispered to himself as he turned his view back to the sand dunes in the South.

Then, something cracked and rattled in the distance, echoing behind the rocks to their East. "What the hell?" Seer said as he and the other soldiers looked over the sandbags.

"We didn't have any patrols go that far…" Seer whispered as he checked the bolt on his rifle, trying to ensure that there wouldn't be any sand caught in the grooves. On the roof above him, Wallace stood up and took a look through the scope of his rifle, trying to spot the fighting while the soldiers around him started to move with a nervous energy.

Seer and a few others stayed behind the sandbag walls, kneeling down with their rifles perched on the top as the Lieutenant overlooking this corner of airfield started to do a head count. The Lt. looked up quickly and pointed around the building, "Airman Katsuragi, get the other patrols to run back to their defensive positions."

Sadio nodded, running to the other edge of the building as he waved his hands to a trio of men walking back to them. After a few rushed gestures, he noticed them start to kick up sand as they ran along the side of the long building. "They're on their way!" Sadio shouted as he ran back to his previous position, the pain in his leg all but ignored as a familiar rush of fear and adrenaline took over.

"Just the one?" Wallace asked.

"Yes," Sadio answered simply.

Wallace then moved a few feet away from Sadio and lied down along the edge, perching his rifle against the side of the building, "It would seem, then, that one of our patrols decided to desert in the minutes before a battle."

"And they ran into the enemy?" Sadio asked, trying to catch any glimpse of a muzzle flash, or movement, but could only guess the battle was on the complete other side of the rocks. "Poor bastards…"

"Save some of that pity for ourselves," Wallace said, "now they don't have a reason to wait. They can assume we know where they are and they'll start the attack as soon as this little skirmish is done."

"So, what do we do?" Sadio said, starting to push himself up.

"Drink some more water." Wallace said, watching as the CO gave out orders, checking weapons and the ammo supply. Two machine guns were moved from the hangars and set on top of the sandbags. Other soldiers from parts of the airfield further off could be seen running towards them, bolstering their numbers as the fighting continued in the distance.

"What?"

"Drink some water," Wallace repeated casually as he checked over his rifle and laid down, making sure he had a comfortable position. He kept his eye hovering behind his scope as he spoke admonishingly, "You won't get a chance once the fighting starts."

As Sadio followed the advice, and the rest of the defense was set up, the fighting continued in the distance. The rattles of several machine guns echoed through the air, along with the distinct piercing crack of a rifle. Sadio had once heard that a veteran would be able to tell the difference between the types of rifles or machine guns just from those sounds. But to him, the sounds could only relate to death.

The last crack of a rifle cut through the air, and brought a silence that deafened the ears of the waiting soldiers more than any gun or bomb could. Tense looks stared into the distance, searching for something and nothing, followed by quick glances to a friend. A few of them started rubbing little knick-knacks stuck into their breast pockets, or attached to their belts.

"Got any prayers? Maybe a nice Angel will fall to the ground and trample the buggers." Wallace whispered as he looked over the rocky hill.

Sadio didn't answer, he wasn't all that sure how to answer anyhow. At the same time, he felt a tightening in his stomach as he found himself more and more unhappy with the fact that he could only wait. "I really wish I was in a plane right now." He whispered to no one in particular. He shook his head suddenly, "No…I-I mustn't."

Seconds passed, then minutes. There was only silence as the soldiers finished their movements. Guns poised in a single distance, all they could do was hurry up and wait. Then, Sadio heard Wallace take a deep breath. In that instant, it suddenly felt as if the world itself paused for a breath, before the calm was torn by the ear-splitting crack of the rifle.

"Ha! Got the little bugger right in the neck," Wallace said with a hunter's stern smile as he loaded another bolt into the chamber.

Sadio had missed the shot entirely and looked for any sight of the body, a grim curiosity suddenly overcoming him. Instead, he saw more movement over the edge of the ridge as several soldiers started running just behind the edge, and disappeared again.

"Hey sniper team!" yelled the CO from below, "You keep taking shots like that. Keep'em scared for as long as you can!"

Sadio barely had time to nod as another soldier popped his head over the ridge, before he had a second thought he swiveled his crosshairs over, and squeezed the trigger. He didn't see much as the soldier's head snapped back and out of view. "Got him!" Sadio said with a sudden rush, and a bit of surprise.

There was barely any time to think about his success as more soldiers started running over the upper edge of the hill and slid down until they landed behind block of stone or slightly upturned ridge of dirt for cover. The machine gunners by the sandbags below started to open up, firing hundreds of rounds against the enemy forces either hiding behind cover, or still coming over the mountain itself.

Sadio focused instead on another soldier running down the hill, and pulled the trigger, only to find that he'd forgotten to lock the next round into the chamber. He swore under his breath as he finally followed through with that part of an unfamiliar rhythm of aim, fire, reload and repeat. Though trained, it was difficult to replace the tendencies he'd had as a pilot, to the ones he needed to remember as ground infantry. And it wasn't very much like the scoped weapons he'd fired before.

A pocket of dirt and stone suddenly burst into the air next to Sadio's head, and he quickly looked down the scope searching for that enemy. A hand gripped his shoulder and pulled him back and away from the edge of the roof, "Time to go one floor down mate. We're too far in the open now."

Without waiting to see if Sadio would follow after him, Wallace ran along the edge of the roof with his head ducked down and rifle in hand. He shouted down to the Captain on the ground before he and Sadio climbed down the ladder behind the building.

()()()()

On the ground, Seer drew a bead on another soldier that was hopping down the side of the hill from one stone to the next. A squeeze of the trigger sent the butt of the rifle into his armpit for what Seer would figure to be a light bruise at some point, but felt some small satisfaction as his target suddenly crumpled to the dirt and toppled the rest of the way down.

He slid back under the edge of the sandbags, loading a clip into his rifle before he leaned back over. Though some of them were young and reckless, like the one from before, most of the soldiers seemed experienced. The bursts from the perched machine gun sitting next to him could only fire for so long before the gunner had to stop and let the barrel cool down, or he had to deal with a belt jam. Then, the enemy soldiers sprang up and bolted to their next line of cover, even if that meant running through a hail of bullets from everyone else's weapons. Very few of them hesitated, and Seer found that he hadn't been able to get in that many good shots. Those soldiers went right where they wanted to go, taking cover near or at the bottom of the mountain.

They weren't far from the airfield there, maybe 40 yards of sprinting and they'd reach the field without an issue. But within those 40 yards, not a single piece of debris or other natural form stood to act as cover. Seer sighed almost in relief as he drew a bead on another soldier, firing quickly and then reloading as he tried to follow the path of that soldier's comrade. The shot ricocheted off the rock as that soldier ducked.

"_Ach tung!" _Seer heard and ducked his head immediately as a few rounds started firing from another angle at the foot of the mountain. He turned to see Heinrich crouched in a similarly uncomfortable position, although he had a strange smile on his face. Seer held back a look of utter confusion as he realized he hadn't seen the German smile before, "Are you excited yet, _mein freund?_" Heinrich asked in his native tongue.

Seer watched him in surprise as the German leaned over and fired several wild shots, ignoring the fact that he was still being shot at. All the while, the soldier had a grin on his face. His eyes were wide, and his pupils slightly dilated from what Seer could easily assume to be bloodlust.

Seer whispered to himself something about remembering why he hated ground combat, but the sound of gunfire drowned him out.

"Hey Reins!" someone yelled in English from the corner of a building a few paces back, "You gonna let that Jerry outdo you in a fight!?"

"Ah piss off!" Seer yelled back as he stood back up and fired a round as soon as he caught a sign of movement, "I don't see you doing any better."

()()()()

Sadio was feeling more than a little surprised at the fact that he'd managed to keep up with Wallace's reckless running, limp and all. It didn't sound like the gunfire had stopped as they took a moment to catch their breath next to the second floor window of a cheap looking concrete building that overlooked the rocks and dirt that were now the current battlefield.

He risked a small peek, trying to see if he could orient himself to the situation, or if anything had changed at all. He found Seer and Heinrich firing round after round next to the machine gunners, although he could barely tell if they were firing at anything other than a few rocks. As the gunfire died down, he realized that they were looking at the same thing he was, absolutely nothing.

No enemies walking around. No reckless soldiers running over the top of the mountain. No one was moving. "Is it over?" Sadio asked suspiciously.

Wallace shook his head, "There are two things that you should never put your trust in. A pair of deuces, and the silence that comes after gunfire." He gave a cock-eyed smile that Sadio shook his head to. Still, Sadio pulled his head back for a moment, understanding the need for caution. It wasn't likely that they'd already killed everyone.

"What do you think they're doing then?" Sadio asked.

"Not a thing," Wallace answered, "their part in this might actually be finished. No commanding officer in their right mind would send their soldiers into that "no mans land" without some kind of contingency."

"Like what exactly?" Sadio said, his fingers gripping onto the butt of his rifle tightly.

"Take it easy," Wallace said with a smirk as he made sure to lower Sadio's rifle gently, "I'm probably just being paranoid. A healthy dose will keep you alive, especially when you're on the ground."

Sadio nodded his head quickly, trying to force himself to relax as he looked over at the edge of the mountain. From where he stood, it was a useless vantage point, but something to look at nonetheless. Wallace turned slightly, an interested look on his face as he stared through the window from the opposite side, having a clear view of the sand dunes in the distance.

"Then again," he started, "I've been wrong before."

"D-dust cloud!" Sadio vaguely heard from outside the building, "Dust cloud in the distance! Could be a vehicle!"

"Calm down!" yelled another, more familiar voice. It sounded like the officer, "Sniper team, take a look and see if you can find out-"

The captain gurgled a bit just a split second after the sound of the gunshot split the air. The captain fell over and Sadio twitched at the sight of a flash in the distance and another gunshot echoed. "Whoa!" someone yelled, "Sniper! Sniper fire!"

"Just get down damnit!" Seer yelled as he covered his head, "Where the hell's it coming from!?"

The soldiers continued to yell at each other, while another screamed as a bullet slammed into him. Sadio couldn't tell much beyond the shouts of fear and pain in the distance, he was too distracted by something else. Wallace's voice pulled him back to reality, "Do you see him?"

Sadio nodded his head quickly, frightened at the thought of being spotted. "Line up your shot and aim at the target in the center. No sudden movements until the very last moment." Wallace's voice was calm and sincere, but Sadio could hear the tension behind it. No one else knew where this sniper was, and no one else would if Sadio didn't take the shot perfectly.

"If you can help it, take the distance into consideration to a certain degree. When you're ready, squeeze the trigger."

Sadio could only barely hear him as he shifted the grip of his rifle. He took a few deep breaths, calming his heartbeat as he started to move, slowly rotating his weapon so that he could line up a shot quickly and easily with the enemy. "Aim…at the target in the center," he whispered under his breath, and in a swift motion, pulled his rifle up and looked straight into the scope.

He didn't remember squeezing the trigger. All he knew was that the shot fired and spun towards the sniper that Sadio could see perched comfortably over a flat rock that overlooked the airfield. If it hadn't been for the muzzle flash earlier, he might not have spotted him. But the bullet ran its course, exactly to where Sadio had intended. The sniper's head snapped to the side as the bullet smashed through it.

Sadio was ready to celebrate as he watched through the scope, until he noticed shades of red and pink splattered along the side of the rock. A twisting feeling overcame his stomach as he watched the body sit still, laying in a manner that would no longer seem comfortable, but mattered little for the dead.

Sadio reached to the open window, and suddenly vomited parts of his rations over the side, to the dismay of a few soldiers below.

"What the-!"

"Aw, that's nasty! It's all over your shoulder!"

"Hah! Sounds like he got a good view of a head shot!"

"Son of a bitch better have had good aim then…"

The calls continued, especially when they realized the gunfire from the enemy sniper had ceased. There were a few calls for medics after that, and a scuffle as people moved over, but Sadio paid less attention as he strove to regain control over his guts.

"Easy does it now," Wallace said next to him as he patted his back lightly, "You did good, but we're not yet finished."

()()()()

Several moments passed after the last killing shot, and Seer and Heinrich looked over at each other in the confusion that followed Sadio's vomiting. Seer looked over at a group huddled by the downed body of the captain, likely dead at this point or close to it.

"Get to your posts!" yelled the British sniper from the open window above them. "Armored transport is on its way here from the Southeast! Get to your posts!"

Seer gave a fleeting look over the edge of the sandbags, before something grabbed his sleeve and dragged him away from the sand bags. "It is too dangerous here, _kamerad_. We should tell the men to get back." Hans said as he moved behind a corner of the building.

"What the hell are you doing?" Seer whispered fiercely as he tried to push away the soldier's stronger grip.

"A _panzerwagen_ will run right over these fortifications. We cannot fight it off like this."

Seer was ready to try and interject when another soldier came running, bearing Sergeant markings on his collar, and a British ground forces tag on his shoulder. The troops were buzzing at this point, unsure of what to do. Some stayed to their posts with a bit of unease, while others felt the need to wander from corner to corner, hoping they could find with a safe spot.

"Set up goddamnit! Wait for the enemy like men!" The sergeant yelled. It didn't take long for him to spot the German and the American soldier standing away from the sandbag and table barricade, and he quickly marched over to them. "You had better be ready to sound the charge lads, because you're not going anywhere else until those planes are ready to go."

Seer tried to smile and nod at the commanding officer, for the moment anyways, before Heinrich started yelling at the sergeant.

"What the hell did this Jerry just say to me, yank?" the sergeant asked when Heinrich was done.

"Ah…" Seer began, "He doesn't think these fortifications will hold without some sort of anti-armor. If that thing has a .50 cal on it, we're screwed." It was a mostly true translation. Seer had just decided to leave out some of the more insulting terms and phrases. He was sure the sergeant's mother would appreciate it better that way.

"He's right," another soldier said, "I mean, we can't just shoot at an APC. And what good can our grenades do if they stay far enough away?"

"Well, you can all tell him that the yank soldiers who ran this bloody base decided not to leave us with anti-armor weaponry. If all we can do is buy some time, then that's what we'll do." The sergeant quickly shoved the two of them over to the sandbags, offering a mock kick as they moved forward, "If the best you've got to use on them are grenades, then use them. We can't run!"

Gunfire started to rattle in the distance, peppering the concrete walls and the sand around them. Someone shouted to take cover, but Seer was already ducking behind the barricade. With the intensity of the argument, he'd nearly forgotten about the other enemy soldiers who sat waiting behind hard rock and stone near the bottom of the mountain.

"So what do we do then?" Seer whispered to himself, waiting for the gunfire to dwindle. They couldn't keep firing without a steady supply of ammo, right? He then looked back at the German, "And where the hell did all that excitement for the fight go!?" he shouted.

"I can pick off a _feind,_ a foe, before they shoot at me." Heinrich started, "But behind armor, it is not so easy."

More shots followed, but these were louder, and faster. A blur of bullets punched through a corner of the concrete building, dropping chunks of rubble over two helmeted gunners who were looking around to find the attacker.

"APC!" someone yelled under the noise of moving treads and blasting gunfire. As it passed by the barricaded entrance that led further into the airfield, bullets kept punching through the sandbags and upturned tables. Seer and Heinrich pushed themselves further to the ground, listening as bullets quickly whizzed over their heads. Too close for comfort.

Someone shouted next to them and toppled back. Seer didn't need to look to know it had been one of the gunners, leaving the machine gun unattended. Without a second thought, Seer crawled over, blindly reached up and gripped onto the back end of the machine gun. He pulled the trigger with his head down and practically kept his eyes shut as he hoped he was firing in the right general direction.

He peeked his head up slightly, seeing the APC with a good look, and his eyes widened as he realized how close it was. The damn thing wasn't much of a beast. Though still made of metal, it looked like it had been reinforced with bits and loose plates that may have come from a junkyard, and then welded on using a blowtorch. Cheap, but it got the job done as angled bullets bounced off of the armor harmlessly.

He grit his teeth and aimed up at the gunner on top of the vehicle, seated towards the front. He fired lead rounds and watched as sparks flew off the edge of the armored vehicle, and the gunner on top fell under the canopy, though Seer couldn't tell if he'd hit the enemy directly or not.

Though as the door behind the APC opened, he didn't care. "Heinrich!" Seer shouted as he pulled the trigger again, "Throw a grenade!"

For a split second, Heinrich stuttered as someone jumped out through the open door, and Seer yelled again as he aimed a long burst near the bottom of the door, "Throw a _gottverdammten_ grenade!"

With a swift tug from his waist, Heinrich grabbed a metal ball and pulled the pin. He hefted the ball towards the sand next to the APC. "Another! Don't stop!" Seer yelled as he crouched back under the top of the sandbag. The grenade exploded and Seer quickly stood back up.

More soldiers ran up next to him, firing a nearly nonstop hail of bullets. Another batch of grenades arched over and plopped alongside the APC as a few of the enemy soldiers started to run away from the vehicle. Seer kept shooting at whatever he thought was moving before a hand grabbed the back of his head suddenly, and pushed him down to the sand. "Get down damnit!" the sergeant yelled.

A cluster of bangs and ear-pounding thumps shook the earth, and Seer felt a sandbag topple over and land next to his head. After a few seconds of silence followed the last explosion, he and several others stood up slowly, peeking their heads over the edge of the makeshift barricade, the outer edge now riddled with pieces of frag.

The APC was smoking all along the side, and bodies were laying behind it, most of them torn and disemboweled across the sand, soaking it dark red. The engine to the vehicle smoked a thick black smoke, and Seer thought he could see red past the shattered windshield. If anyone else tried to look closer, they could also see oil and other fluids leaking all along the bottom of the vehicle. But at that point, what they saw was enough.

"See?" the sergeant said, "that's why you hold your bloody positions."

Seer turned around with his grin and looked up towards one of the windows where Sadio stood, who's face cleaner and had a bit more color back in it. "See that Katsuragi?" Seer shouted as he held up his index and middle fingers, "Now that's two you owe me for saving your ass!"

Sadio responded in a way that Seer didn't expect. Eyes wide, he watched as the Italian pilot raised his rifle in a swift motion, too fast for Seer to even think of reaching for his weapon. The rifle fired, and Seer flinched, but felt nothing. He instead heard a groan behind him and turned, along with the other men on the ground, to see an enemy soldier slumped over the side of the APC. He had been standing in the gunners port with part of his body still inside the vehicle. It had been the gunner that Seer had fired at before, but apparently had missed.

Sadio looked over at Seer as he turned back around, "It's not gonna take me very long to catch up with you, is it?" he said, though it was more a statement than a question. He also had a smug smile on his face as he said it.

Seer raised his hand again, but only his middle finger was standing this time.

()()()()

The sun started to set in the distance, on the far side of the airfield, and the soldiers stirred from their places at the foot of the mountain range. One knocked his hand against the shoulder of another, who had been napping to regain some of his strength, before he stood up completely and peered over the edge of the stone they were using as cover.

The airfield had been quiet since the invaders destroyed the APC, which had surprised…well, all of them. They had been ready to charge once their reinforcements arrived, but explosion after explosion had caused the Captain to stall the attack. And once the APC had been blasted, and their reinforcements gunned down, all that each soldier could do was look on in shock.

So they waited, and watched as the sky got darker, and the glow of the sun continued to shine in the distance. They checked the ammo, and the bolts on their rifles for any jams. The next few minutes would be quick, loud, and painful. A deep breath before the inevitable.

Then a pause. Nothing happened. And so they waited. And still nothing happened.

And as the Captain looked over the edge of the rock once more, listening to the sound of his men whispering frustration or nervousness, he saw that the orange glow of the sun, mostly hidden behind the many buildings and hangars that surrounded the airfield, had still not sunk behind completely.

But how? The stars were out. The night sky was dark; as dark as it had ever been.

And then another sound churned the air, as an engine sputtered to life, followed by several others in the distance. The whirl of multiple propellers started filling the sky with a harsh noise, and the Captain quickly stood on his feet with weapon in hand. "Quickly," he shouted, and charged forward towards the ruins of the APC.

As they reached it, the stench of death quickly overcame their senses, to the point in which some of them gagged. The sun had baked the blood and torn remains of their compatriots, and buzzing of flies bounced against some of them, though they did not think any more of it for fear of losing control of their stomachs. The Captain held his breath, as much as he could, and crept around the side of the shredded vehicle, looking for any sign of movement. He was met with nothing. No guns, and no men. He moved forward again, signaling for the rest to follow after him as he shuffled his steps, kicking sand out of the way deliberately.

As those soldiers turned the final corner, kneeling down and aiming towards the airfield, the noise of the engines turned up even louder and they saw the source of the noise. Several B-22 flying fortresses sat on the runway, of which some had already pulled forward and where flying off into the night sky.

Three were left, sitting on standby, waiting to take off. Next to them, several hangars burned bright orange, showering the runway with a wavering light, and filling the breathable area with the scent of smoke and fuel.

The Captain half-shouted as he threw his hand forward, and he quickly crumpled to the ground as one of the planes suddenly opened up, and cut through his body.

()()()()

From the plane itself, Seer gave a shout as he sent several short bursts into the buildings. "Hey, we've got enemy soldiers on the airfield! We might wanna get going!" He shouted under the noise.

"Calm down yank," said the co-pilot in the front, "It won't take more than another minute."

Seer shook his head as he fired another burst. "No respect, huh Sadio?"

Sadio, in response, kept his head ducked down, though he was almost certain that he could hear and feel the vibration of some of bullets from smaller arms pinging off of the outer-armor. Respect or not, he wanted the plane to take off.

The plane shuddered suddenly and pulled forward. Momentum tugged the men back towards the tail slightly, but they regained their footing. With more distance and speed, Sadio could almost see the tension dissipate.

A burst of static started to chatter along everyone's earpiece radio set, and Sadio quickly raised his hand to make sure it was secured inside of the leather cap that he was wearing, much like everyone else.

"This is Captain Price," warbled through the radio waves, "with a full load in each cabin, we have seven B-22s heading towards a safer haven. We have a long trip, and cover of night, so I'll keep this short."

"I know you might all be wondering what the worth of this really is. Even when we get back, it might not be such an easy journey…and we'll all be fighting again soon anyhow." Price said, "So take your moment now. We've got the night to relax, a bit."

"You'll have your designated posts soon, if it hasn't already been decided. Keep the radio chatter to a minimum, and don't pull the trigger on anything unless ordered by your respective Captains." Sadio stood up then, making sure that his flak jacket was secured, and the straps for his parachute were tightened. As Seer gave him a thumbs up with a questioning look, Sadio nodded and grabbed the gun that the American had been holding, so that Seer could get into the rest of his gear and straighten it up himself.

"With any luck, we'll see each other in Italy by morning. Godspeed."

{}{}{}{}

Once again, thanks for reading.

-Hawk Strife


End file.
